A lawyer who heard the news in the middle of a jury trial. Servicemen who feared the outbreak of nuclear war. Young mothers who tried to hold their composure in front of little children. Relationships forged and strengthened amid grief.

What follows is the outpouring of notes and letters from Central New Yorkers sent to The Post-Standard in the past month, after I asked readers: Where were you when you learned John F. Kennedy had died?

At the end of today - after exactly 50 years, on another late November Friday - we'll share this collection with the Onondaga Historical Association. If you'd like to add your own memory, for the OHA archives, the easiest way is to do it as a signed comment, below. Or you can email me today at skirst@syracuse.com And you can use this link to find our main coverage.

For more reading on local ties to Kennedy, you can also find links here to columns about:

Most of all, thanks to everyone willing to share the passionate reflections offered in so many of these notes:

Photo by the great Post-Standard photographer John Sherlock: John F. Kennedy in Syracuse, 1960.John Sherlock | The Post-Standard

Bishop Gladstone "Skip" Adams:

Dear Mr. Kirst,
Thank you for inviting to us to offer our remembrances on where we were on that awful day of President Kennedy's assassination.

I was sitting in my fifth grade class at Parkville Elementary School in Baltimore County, Maryland. It was like any other day with Mrs. Hale at her desk in front of the class as we worked quietly on an assigned lesson. Someone entered the room and whispered into her ear, we knew not what, when all of us witnessed the horrified look on her face and she began to softly cry. She hurried out of the room as she told us to continue with our work. As you can imagine there was a buzz that went through the room as we wondered what was going on. Mrs. Hale returned shortly to announce that we were all going home early that day and to prepare for dismissal. We still did not know anything as to why.

As we got on the bus there was lots of conversation and quite honestly excitement about getting out of school early. We were elementary school kids, after all. We were having fun and on the bus there was lots of laughter and joking around. Going home early - what a treat. Then someone said that they thought they heard one of the teachers say that President Kennedy had been shot. The mood changed immediately as if someone had flipped a switch. Even young school kids had an awareness of how serious this was.

I got to my stop. My mother was waiting for me along with other parents. Our questions were not immediately answered until we were hurriedly ushered into our various homes. My mother had me sit down as she explained what had happened. At this point we understood the President was in surgery. We held out hope that he would survive, but then the news came that the President was dead. As I write these words I remember the feeling in my gut of grief and despair, at least in the way a fifth grader might experience it. I was looking for clues from my Mom on how I should be responding. She was clearly distraught. Along with my Dad who was still at work, they had voted for President Kennedy with much hope and excitement. They were definitely Maryland Roosevelt-style Democrats.

For days we were riveted before our then new black and white TV. I remember Walter Cronkite's emotion. We were Episcopalians and so was he. He was our news anchor of choice. I was watching the TV alone when I saw live the killing of Lee Harvey Oswald by Jack Ruby. Some would say that in those days we experienced the loss of the innocence of a post-World War II nation. I know that a Baltimore eleven-year-old lost his innocence as well.

Jo Appleton:
When the President was shot, our mom was home, our dad at work, and my brother and I were in class at the old Lincoln Junior High at Vine and Shuart.

Mom called the school office and spoke with the secretary, Mrs. Devlin. She asked that the school broadcast live from the radio on the PA system because "It's their history, too." I expect other parents were calling as well.

The PA snapped on and our history changed forever.

Barbara Baillargeon:
My name is Barbara Baillargeon. At the time of the assassination I was 17- years-old, last name Abend. I heard about it in study hall at East Syracuse-Minoa High school. What deepened the sense of tragedy was the fact that we were all asked to pray, an unusual request due to all the fuss over prayer in schools at that time. I remember going to my grandparents' house every Sunday, which was a day just for family. Instead a friend of my grandmother's was there, too. She lived alone and wanted to be with people on this tragic day, especially since Lee Harvey Oswald had been killed earlier that day. Nobody wanted to be alone at a time like this. It seems now like everything was referenced by before and after the assassination. I know I will never forget it.

David Baker:
Mr. Kirst,

I was in the army, stationed at Fort Dix, New Jersey, when President Kennedy was shot and killed.

I was in the process of transferring from one company to another one across post. I had called a taxi, and after stowing my duffel bag in the taxi told the driver I had to go in the orderly room to sign out, and would be right back.

When I went in the orderly room, the charge of quarters NCO told me the president had been shot. I ran out to the taxi, and told the driver, and he and I both went into the orderly room and listened to the news reports.

Of course, after a while they announced the President was dead. All three of us were in shocked disbelief.

I went to my next assignment, and got assigned to a barracks, but was told not to unpack. In fact, the whole post was put on standby alert.

I also remember the next day when the alert was lifted, that no one worked the next day. We did stand a formation while a 21-gun salute was fired in President Kennedy's honor.

Ever since that terrible day, when I would get irritated at something or other that one of our succeeding Presidents would do, I would think to myself, 'We have a way to remedy that in this country. They're called elections.'

Harry Bastedo:
I learned that (the president) had been shot at 2:OO pm while I was working at the telephone company in Minoa, N.Y. My company, Western Electric, called and told us to go home and be with our family. It was a sad day for everyone!
Paulia W. Bates, Oswego:

November 22, 1963. I was 9-years-old, in fourth grade, and growing up in Skaneateles when I heard the news of President Kennedy's assassination. It was a brisk and sunny Friday afternoon, about 3:30 PM. I had just walked home from school and was talking with my wom in our back yard. Suddenly, we heard my six-year-old sister, Pamela, a first-grader then, yelling from the back field. She had taken the "short cut" route which we sometimes used to avoid sidewalks, and to get home a little faster.

"The President's been shot!" we heard her scream.

"What is she saying?" gasped my mother, quickly striding over to my sister as I tried to listen more closely.

"They shot the President!" insisted my sister, on the edge of tears.

I remember my mother trying to calm my sister down and at the same time looking at me and asking, "Is it true? Was the president shot?"

I told her that I didn't know. I was puzzled and confused.

We went inside to our living room and my mother turned on our small black and white TV. There was a news clip showing the presidential motorcade in Texas.

I heard my mother gasp again, saying "It's true! How can it be?" I knew she was very, very upset and I could feel my own tears welling up as I heard the shock and sorrow in her voice.

We all stayed glued to the TV , watching the clips over and over again. In shock and disbelief, I couldn't understand how it was possible for someone to shoot the president of the United States. Why would anyone want to shoot the leader of our country while he was waving to everyone from his car? It made no sense to me at all.

My father came home from work a few hours later. He and my mother talked for the rest of the evening while watching the news over and over again. My sister, my older brother and I kept asking them what was going to happen next. They didn't know, but assured us we were all safe.

There was nothing else on TV for days and days. Back in school I remember my teacher showing us the black ribbon she had tied below our classroom flag.

"This is for the terrible, terrible event that happened to our country over the weekend" she explained, looking at all of us and shaking her head in sorrow.

This is how I remember that day, 50 years later. My Mom, at 85 now, still remembers, as does my sister and brother.

Thanks for encouraging me to remember.
Mary Catherine Becker:

On November 22nd of 1963, I was an 18-year-old secretary working at Kemper Insurance in downtown Syracuse when an announcement was made over the company's PA system stating simply that "the president" had been shot, that the building was being closed, and that everyone in the building was required to evacuate immediately. Many of us who were working in the building at the time concluded that the announcement was referring to the president of Kemper Insurance, never imagining that it was in fact the President of the United States of America who had just been mortally wounded.

My co-workers and I immediately exited the building, each going our separate way and many, including myself, not yet aware of the tragic events that were unfolding. Since the day happened to be the birthday of my fiancee, I made a point of stopping in at the nearby Addis store in order to purchase a gift for him - a beautiful 1OO% Italian Virgin Wool sweater fashioned in Italy.

The sweater has been worn only a few times and since then has been stored carefully in a special place in our home and within our family.
Louise Bement:
My eldest child was in afternoon kindergarten and my two younger children were "down for their nap." We lived in Horseheads at the time.

I was watching the movies at one o'clock on Channel 3, Syracuse. The movies were hosted by Denny Sullivan, I believe. Suddenly the movie was interrupted with the news of Kennedy's being shot in Dallas. Time just froze then for almost a week as the whole country was paralyzed with grief. We were glued to the TV set and hardly functioned as a family at all. But, then, no one else that we knew was functioning very well, either.

The world changed on that day as the belief that Camelot could exist disappeared, and reality took over.
Jerry Bergan, Clay:
On November 22, 1963 I was a freshmen at Mount Carmel High School in Auburn.

During biology class, the principal came on the PA system and announced that the president had been shot. We had a moment of silence and a prayer. Later on he came on to announce the president had died. Walking home from school, I saw people on the street crying. Entering our house, my mother was sitting in her rocking chair crying as she watched the television. For the next four days all we did was watch the news. People were in shock and disbelief.

I turned 14 that day (Nov. 22) and of course my birthday party was canceled. We were a nation in mourning.

Michael Berman, Onondaga:
It was Nov. 22, 1963, and I was coming home from Washington Irving Elementary School. Between the school and my home at 749 Harrison St., next door to the school, I heard someone on the street shout: 'The president's been shot!' This explains why I was delivering The Herald-Journal so late that Friday night. The newspaper presses were interrupted to accommodate the event and to reset the front page headline.

It was dark that night as Thanksgiving was nearby (how ironic) and here I waited in the 15th Ward of Syracuse to service my paper route customers. Most memorable was my delivery to Ben's Kitchen, the local eatery and adult gathering place. Upon my entering, someone in the crowd there asked me, 'Did you shoot the president?' My 8-year-old mind was taken aback: 'What did he mean by that?' I pondered ... Surely I wasn't being blamed, was I? No answer came to me. I was saddened that chilly evening as I continued my deliveries. Not comprehending that, like everybody else, I was a part of history that day. In a profound sense, perhaps we were all somehow responsible, given our best and worst possibilities.

Be that as it may, what I do know is that even as I am unable to remember my phone number sometimes these days ... that day (50 years ago) is still etched vividly and deeply within me ... the passing of an icon; the gift of one of us at our best and the madness that needlessly being taken away.
Don Birdseye, Juneau, Alaska:
I was a 16-year-old junior at Syracuse Central Tech High School, enrolled in the Tech Physics tract, along with about a dozen other boys who moved as a group from class to class every day. Between periods (we had just left French class, on the way to PE), classmate George Backus asked if I'd heard that President Kennedy had been shot in Dallas. George was the jokester of our group, and I was still waiting for the punchline when we reached the gym. Word spread not to change into gym clothes, and we were told to line up along the basketball court sideline. Men's basketball coach Ed Lukens came onto the court, and stated, "Gentlemen, the President of the United States is dead." It was like being slapped upside the head with my first instance of adulthood.

School was dismissed. As I made my way to Salina Street to catch the bus home, up at the other end of downtown, a large number of people were massing. I was told that the entire class of Central Tech senior boys were enlisting at the various military recruiting stations located on Clinton Square. While that particular rumor proved not to be true, I remember wishing that I was old enough to enlist.

I worked for the federal government in downtown Dallas most of my adult life. The last seven years, my office overlooked Dealey Plaza. From my office window, I could look directly into the sixth floor window of the Texas Book Depository. I spent as much time out in the field as I could to avoid the view.
Julia Lavin Bliven, Baldwinsville:

I saw my 4th grade teacher whispering with another teacher in the hall while my class was finishing our bathroom recess time at Huntington Elementary School. Girls, waiting in a straight line; boys, opposite them in their single file line. We were all waiting until our teacher led us back to our classroom. Wait: she was beginning to cry, right in front of us and I had never witnessed my teacher do such a thing. The other teacher looked like she was about to cry also. As I sat down in my classroom chair, the type attached to my desk, I was puzzled to see our custodian out at the flagpole in front of my school. Why was he taking the flag down in the middle of the day? That was strange, but stranger still what he really did. He stopped the flag halfway down and walked back inside the school. I had never seen a flag at half staff and was becoming confused and feeling, what? I couldn't say yet, but something was not right. My teacher wasn't even directing us to begin our work. What is going on, I wondered?

Then , unexpectedly, the principal's voice began to crackle over the classroom intercom. Why is he giving the end of day announcements now? He wasn't; instead, he told our entire school that President Kennedy had been seriously hurt, school was immediately dismissed and we were all to go home. I still didn't understand it all, but I would, as much as a 9-year-old could understand, during the days to follow.

My stay-at-home mom was expecting me, but how did she know I'd be home in the middle of the day? My father owned his own barber shop, normally only closed on Sundays. For the next week, he was always home, his shop closed. For the next week, my parents had both of our TV sets on all day long, both of them sitting, watching, silent and sullen. On that important day, my dad sat me on the couch next to him to watch as President Kennedy's funeral processed down Pennsylvania Avenue. The atmosphere in my house felt strange; I felt like I was supposed to whisper and not run through the house, and not even yell at my younger brother.

The immortal salute: A son honors his father, 1963.The Associated Press

Not strange to me was that little girl in a pretty, blue coat, Caroline, only 3 years younger than I. The one I would imagine being, living in that beautiful White House. Yes, there was that little girl in a pretty, blue coat, Caroline, now to live without a father ... forever after. As my dad held my hand and we watched, I could not have known only two years later, I would learn what it would feel like to be without a father ... forever after. My Dad died suddenly at age 59. I was only eleven.

Although I remember well the cute little boy who saluted his Dad's coffin, and the all- too-young widow whose overwhelming grief was kept in check behind the tiny black veil of her classic pillbox hat, I remember and relate most to a little girl in a pretty, blue coat who lost her father that day ... forever after.
Evelyn Brenzel, DeWitt:
When President Kennedy was assassinated, I was in college at my last class of the week, Sociology 101. As the class ended and we walked out into the hallway, it was clear that something had happened because the usual chatter and laughter had been replaced by tears streaming down faces and audible sobs. Someone said, "The President has been shot." We headed for the student center which had a TV -- there were only a few on campus at that time -- and arrived there just as Walter Cronkite was announcing that the President had died. We were numb and in shock, trying to wrap our minds and hearts around such an unimaginable and devastating event. We had all grown up in the idyllic '50's; reality had intruded very little except maybe when Elvis was drafted. Unlike our parents and grandparents, we had not experienced the Great Depression and World War II, so we had absolutely no frame of reference for something of this awful magnitude.

I was a member of the Rutgers University Choir, and we were in the midst of singing Brahms's A German Requiem with Eugene Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra in several concerts, including one at Carnegie Hall. We heard at dinner that we would be taking a bus to Philadelphia on Saturday to tape a performance to be aired nationwide that evening on CBS. This time the context was very different because this requiem was for a particular person who--regardless of political affiliation--had brought youth, vigor, and charisma to the most important office in the country. As Maestro Ormandy mounted the podium, he looked at us and said, "Millions of people around the world wish they could do something today. We can." He lifted his baton, and we sang our hearts out.

It was both humbling and satisfying to be able to participate in a small way at this time in history. But most of all, I was grateful to be able to join with the country in this expression of deepest sorrow. In retrospect, it moved me from being a bystander to being a more active part of the world around me. Though technically still a teenager, I was no longer an adolescent.

Dick Brickwedde:
I was a sophomore at SU on November 22. I had a sociology course that morning before going to work at Bardeen's on E. Genesee St. where the Gilberti law firm is now. Bill Rapp Pontiac was next door. I worked in the retail front of the store. Shipping was in the rear fronting on Fayette St. A fellow named Russ came out from the warehouse to say that Kennedy had been shot. (Russ amongst other things was the projectionist for I think the Westcott theater and the theater in Manlius at different times). We turned on the radio in the store to find out what was happening. Customers would come in not knowing what had happened. We stood around the radio just listening. When they announced Kennedy was dead tears were shed. We had an American flag that we put on a pole by the street. We decided to turn it upside down. We didn't know what else to do.

I went home to my fraternity house at SU where the TV stayed on through the funeral. I was in the living room when someone called out from the TV room that Oswald had been shot on live on TV. We all immediately went into the TV room to see what followed.
David Frost was doing "That was the week that was" in those days. It was a satiric take off on the news each week. When we watched the show, we held our breath, but they managed to handle that week's news in a tasteful way.

I'll never forget that day just like I won't forget 9/11. The state had its offices on an upper floor there when I worked for the state and I was there with some frequency. It was not uncommon to see small planes flying below us relatively near the building. When the word 1st came that a plane had hit the tower, I assumed it was one of those small planes that screwed up.

I lost a cousin 9/11 although I didn't know he worked there until a couple days later. They found his body on top of one of the adjoining buildings.

R.T. Briggs:

I was a junior in engineering at Syracuse University and working part time at E.R Siefert Inc. on 202 S. Beech Street as a design draftsman to pay my way through out of his office, came over to my drafting board and put his hand on my shoulder. I turned to face him, since this was a rare gesture on his part, I saw a tear running down his face and he told me that our president had been shot. My first reaction was a hot flash and then disbelief that this could happen in America.

I spent the entire weekend glued to the TV principally watching Walter Cronkite on CBS news. To this day nearly 50 years later I have yet to understand the motive of such a horrendous act. With all the investigations, the Warren Commission, and many books written about the event a clear picture of what went through Lee Harvey Oswald's mind to concoct such an atrocity will never be known. This event and the 9/11 event are etched in my mind and serve as a reminder to be diligent, observant, and cautious about the territory one inhabits. God Bless America.
Charles Stephen Burdick, Clay:

The Post-Standard, Nov. 23, 1963File art

On November 22, 1963 I was a 20-year-old enlisted man in the U. S. Air Force stationed at at Hamilton AFB, California. The Air Defense Command Air Base was located roughly 50 miles west of Sacramento and 90 miles north of San Francisco. The base was home to 24 F-101 (Voo Doo) interceptor air planes. I was at work at the 78th Armament & Electronics Squadron avionics building when we were informed that President John F. Kennedy had been shot.
We had priority work orders to fix F-101's and clear the red X's in the aircraft forms. All of our aircraft had to serviceable. We worked like Voo Doo medicinemen to make our aircraft ready for war. Within a day or so 23 of our F-101's were armed with sidewinders missiles, on alert, and ready to intercept any foe. Our 24th aircraft had its engines pulled for periodic inspection. At night I was called out of the barracks to help check out an F-101 on an engine run up. I arrived at the run up pad with test equipment. The F-101 was tied down to a concrete anchor with a thick cable and the engines were running. I crawled under the aircraft and connected the jet cal tester. The aircraft engines were throttled up and a signal was given to pop afterburner. Flame shot out of the exhaust, warm air hit my face, a gust of wind rocked me back. Two loud bangs could be heard even with ear protectors. The F-101 strained against the tie down cable. The darkness of the night was lit up from the flame from the J-57 engines. Soon the engines were throttled down. The engine run up was a success. I went to sleep that night knowing that I had done my job. One more F-101 would be armed with missiles, placed on alert, and be ready to scramble to intercept any hostile aircraft approaching the west coast. We were trying to keep the U. S. strong which was the wish of our former Commander And Chief, JFK.
Margaret Burns:
Many people have said it was a nice day. I remember that day as being very gray but perhaps my memories have been colored by the events of that day.

November 22 stands sharp and clear as cut glass in my memory, as does 9/11.

I was in 6th period math class at Lincoln Junior High.I remember that the teacher, Mr.Scott, was wearing a beige houndstooth jacket that day.During the class the principal,Mr. Sutton came on the PA to tell us of a special announcement.They played the radio coverage over the PA as we sat in stunned silence. I remember seeing the teacher with tears in his eyes.

After the broadcast we were told we were being dismissed early and that the school dance for that night was canceled.As we spilled out into the hallway, I remember one girl screaming, "Murderers!"

LIke the rest of the nation we all sat in front of the TV for the next few days watching history evolve in front of us. My brother, who had campaigned for JFK, seemed shell-shocked .

I just didn't understand.How could Jackie seem so calm standing next to LBJ in her bloodstained clothes? How could Oswald have been killed, too, in full view of the nation? What was happening to us?

And then followed the funeral. I can still hear that persistent drumbeat as world leaders marched in silence behind the casket.

That was a very somber Thanksgiving that year. It didn't seem right to have any kind of celebration then.

Now, fifty years later, many of us will watch the old news coverage of that horrible time when we seemed to lose our innocence.

Nothing has been the same since.

Wayne "Cal" Callahan, Manlius:
On that historic Friday afternoon, me and my classmates were on stage performing in our matinee Senior play: "The Mouse that Roared." The location: Lowville Academy in upstate Lowville. John Pederson with his Boston accent was playing the role of the president of the United States, and stealing the show. An off-stage actor got wind of the assassination and shared it with us fellow cast members. John dropped the accent, and the crowd was not made aware of JFK's murder until our final curtain call, when Mr. McNeilly- our principal - announced the sad news. We canceled Saturday evening's performance until December 7th, Pearl Harbor Day. The whole scenario remains vivid in my mind's eye, as if it happened yesterday.
Brenda Caster:

I was born in 1959 so I was only 4 when President Kennedy was killed. But his death triggers my first childhood memory. On that evening, all Americans were encouraged to light a candle and put it in a window in honor of the President. That remains vivid in my mind, the candle in the window over the kitchen sink.
Mary Ann Clark:

This is my recollection: I was 10-years-old, and in the 5th grade at Elmwood School on South Avenue. My teacher's name was Sue Stark, she was young & pretty, and probably all the boys had a crush on her. She had big blue eyes, and wore her dark hair teased up. The principal came to our classroom door - Miss Farley was her name - and spoke very low to Miss Stark. When Miss Stark came back to stand in front of the class, there were tears in those beautiful blue eyes, and she said, "Boys & girls, you are going to be dismissed now to go home; the president has been shot." Talk about losing your innocence! I know I lost mine at that moment! I couldn't comprehend in my little child's mind how something like this could happen! And then I realized that if the President could be shot, no one was really safe! Compound that with the fact that my beautiful teacher was crying, and I was one distraught little girl. I remember walking the couple of blocks to my home on Craddock Street with tears streaming down my cheeks, and feeling like I was in a fog.

I came to a corner where a girl was on "patrol" (remember kids would wear a white belt strapped across their chests, and they would tell you when it was safe to cross the street?). Her name was Bonnie DeBoer, and I remember thinking she must be crazy! "The President has been shot!" I said. She just stared at me. Home was not much better; the TV was on constantly, and I remember my parents looking so sad! They were of Irish descent, and Catholic, just like the president, and when he died he was only 3 years older than both of them. Looking back I realize that being that young a girl was hard, but a good thing at the same time, because it didn't consume my thoughts the way it probably did those of my parents.

In fact, two days later, when my Dad witnessed Lee Harvey Oswald being shot on TV by Jack Ruby, us girls were outside playing in the snow.... By the way, I will go to my grave believing there were more people involved in John F. Kennedy's death than just Lee Harvey Oswald - if he was the one who did it at all, or just the scapegoat.

Phyllis Gillard Cologgi, Rochester:

My brother who is still living in our hometown of Fulton, told me about your suggestion that people write in and tell you where they were and how they were affected by the death of President Kennedy. He called me today and told me I should contact you to share my story.

November 22, 1963 was my 6th birthday. My classmates and I were sharing cupcakes at St. Mary's school in Fulton, NY when another teacher came in and told our teacher the news. The teacher informed the class that the president had been shot so the party quickly ended. Shortly thereafter we were dismissed from school. Even at that age, I knew it was an awful day for our country, but I couldn't help but be excited that afternoon. I was looking forward to watching my favorite show Popeye because that night my picture was going to be on the 'Salty Sam Show.' Salty Sam would show pictures of children on their birthdays in between the Popeye cartoons. That year my mom had sent in my picture so I was as excited as any 6-year-old would have been, I couldn't wait!

When the time came for the show to start, all there was on TV was the news. I thought maybe it would be on later but for the whole night and for many days to follow all there was on TV was news. It's hard not remember the disappointment of being that little girl who didn't fully understand the gravity of the situation as her birthday dream day turned into a huge personal disappointment. Once I was old enough to fully understand what had happened that day I felt guilty. I was only thinking of myself that day when the nation and the world lost a president and even more importantly a woman lost her husband and two children lost their father!!!

Michael J. Connor:
I was in fifth grade at St Alphonsus School in Auburn when the announcement came over the PA system. Mrs. Walsh, my gray-haired teacher who had evinced little emotion in class to that date, smashed her hand against the blackboard. The chalk exploded and went flying in pieces. She nearly collapsed. She kept her arms on the board to steady herself long enough to imprint the moment in my mind.

My mother picked me up from school and needed to stop at the bank.

"Did you hear someone shot Kennedy?" I remember someone in line saying.

"Good!" another replied. "I hope they get 'me all!"

The death of an idol -- (like many families I knew, we had a framed, color portrait photo of JFK on the piano, next to John XXIII), and the hate that flowed freely and shockingly for one who had basked in the warmth of an Irish-Catholic-American ascendant sun (and son) -- was too much. I became violently ill for days, through Thanksgiving, rarely leaving the couch. It was darkness all around, a storm that never completely lifted the rest of my life.
Mildred Clark, Syracuse:
I was at home, ironing and watching TV, when I heard the news that John Kennedy had been shot. I was shocked.

When my children came home from school, they were upset. They told me they had heard the news at school. I tried to comfort them.

My husband was a teacher. He told me his students were very upset at the news. It's a day I'll never forget.

Maria Conti:

Here's my memory of that tragic day Nov 22, 1963:

I was 6-years-old at the time and I was attending a birthday party next door to me; it was my best friend Cheri's birthday and she turned 6 as well. When the news came on, my mother had pulled me away from the party. I didn't know what to make of it as I saw her crying I was, well, 6 years-old at the time.

A few days after I remember my aunt stopping at St. Vincent DePaul church on Hawley and Vine Streets. I do believe she had me and my two brothers, whom she left in her car so she can say a prayer for the president. I know it was a sad day, and so were the times after that. I do remember little John-John saluting his father's coffin as it was driven by a horse-drawn wagon and the manless horse trotting by it. Think that was JFK's horse, if I'm not wrong.

That's all I do remember; can't forget the funeral it was televised and my parents had us kids glued to our TV. How things changed from black & white to color TV's.

Now I'm 56 yrs old and every year I remember it so well due that it was my best friend's birthday party. Another sad note: Nov 23rd is a sad day for me as I lost my beloved "Sadie Angell," a black lab mix I had for 8 years. She had a tumor then depression fell, due to the fact that my other dog passed on 35 days earlier.

Jim Conway:

I was on active duty in the USAF from 1961 through 1965 and trained in Aircraft & Missile Ground Support Repair. My first assignment was at Incirlik AFB in southern Turkey, about 80 miles from the Syrian border. I was in Turkey from July 1962 through December 1963 and experienced both the Cuban Missile Crisis as well as the JFK assassination during that 18- month period at that base.
It was October 1962. In Turkey the U.S. Air Force had several bases as well as several missile sites, mostly aimed at Russia and in particular at Moscow. Nikita Khrushchev was the First Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union 1953-1964. He warned President Kennedy that if we persisted in challenging his fleet approaching Cuba and/or Cuba itself, he would wipe Turkey off the face of the earth. His plan was to get us to shut down our missile sites. At least that's what we were told by our unit officer. All of us were put on 'High Alert' and were anticipating an attack by the Russian Air Force or ground troops at any time. The average Turk was not too excited about us being in their country in the first place. One Turkish airman told me that between the Russians and the Americans, the Russians were the worst of two evils. Fortunately, all passed and the crisis was resolved.
In November 1963, only one month before I was scheduled to leave Turkey and be reassigned to Zaragosa AFB in Spain, we were notified that evening by our 2nd Lieutenant that President Kennedy was assassinated. Once again we were put on alert and I wondered if I would ever get out of Turkey alive. We didn't know if the Russians were involved in Kennedy's murder or what. Again, the stress level was quite high and everyone seemed very silent about the assassination and we were really focused on our individual assignments on the 'Flight Line.' Being stationed at such an isolated base, we didn't get much information on what was happening back home. Of course, there were no computers or internet to check things out. We just did what we were told to do, one day at a time.

One month later I was on a C-130 to my new assignment in Spain and thankful that I was out of harms way. Over a 3 year period, I was stationed in Turkey, Spain, Libya (pre-Gaddafi) and France. There is no country on earth like the good old USA.
Carol Curtis:

The day the late President John F. Kennedy was shot and killed I was 13-years-old and I was in Mrs. Wilson's seventh grade science class at Durgee Jr. High School in Baldwinsville. When the principal came over the intercom and said the President had been shot the whole class just sat in silence. This is a day that I will always remember.

Mary Davis:
I was a junior in high school at Most Holy Rosary in Syracuse when the PA system suddenly turned on. We stopped class to listen because usually one of the sisters would be making an announcement. But this time it seemed someone was fooling around and the radio was playing static sounds. As the radio tuned in more clearly, an announcer was saying that the president had been shot. The sister who was teaching us suddenly ran out of the classroom to talk to the others in the hallway. Soon we were discharged early from school and began walking home feeling numb. We were glued to the television for the next few days and were watching when Jack Ruby shot Oswald.

Four years later, my father had a business opportunity and my parents moved to Dallas, Tx. with most of my 10 brothers and sisters. I remained in Syracuse with my future husband, still live here, but visit Dallas at least once a year. In November 1983, exactly twenty years after the Kennedy assassination, my father was found shot to death in his car in a Dallas parking lot -- a murder that has never been solved by the Dallas police.
Rosanne Dempsey:

I will never forget where I was when we heard the news: St. Anthony's, eight grade, Sr. Ricarda's room on the third floor. We went into church after classes were dismissed and walked home silently and sat with our families to watch TV about the tragedy. Wonderful president: Camelot. When we went back years ago for a "whole" school reunion, the first thing I said when I walked into that classroom was, "This is where I was sitting when we heard about Kennedy." And, as we walked through other classrooms, you would be amazed at how many times we heard people say the same thing.

Rev. David Derby, Clay:

This is my account of where I was on November 22, 1963.

I was pastor of a church in a Northern Virginia community. Late in the afternoon of November 22, I was visiting a Church member who was ill, in the hospital. As I talked with him, I overheard a nurse in the hallway say, "The President's been shot!" I stopped and listened for a moment but heard no more. I concluded my visit and got in my car to drive home. Turning on the radio, I heard the tragic news. It was not yet known if he was still living or had died. When I arrived home, I told my wife and son. We turned on the TV and watched the story unravel and then the historic announcement by Walter Cronkite:

The president had died.

Shortly after he was sworn in, the new president, Lyndon Johnson requested that everyone gather at their own local church on Monday, November 25th for a memorial service. We held a service with a packed church. The sense of tragedy that permeated every community at that time is hard to describe. It was unforgettable.
Lynn Dobkowski:

I will never forget that day. I was in band practice at school in Indian Lake. Our school principal came on the loudspeaker and made the announcement that "The President has been shot." You could have heard a pin drop. I was 14. I don't remember now if we were dismissed from school or if band practice continued. I only remember those words and where I was.
Karen J. Docter:

This is what I remember as though it had happened today. I was 8-years-old then. Now I am 58. As I write this, I am 8 again. I am crying as I write this.

I was in third grade at Edward Smith Elementary School. We lived on Westmoreland Avenue. I walked round trip to school every day; it took about 45 minutes or so to walk the 3/4 mile one way. I lived too close (2 houses too close) to be bussed.

On November 22nd, 1963 our teacher, Mrs. Schreck, dismissed us early She did not tell us why. I was scared and I ran towards home. I'd been similarly scared a few years earlier when someone told us the Russians were going to bomb us and we had to leave school early and go "straight home". I actually remember searching the sky for enemy planes.

Now, here I was again, running home. This time, I was running on the east side of Miles Avenue when I came upon some younger children crying. I asked one of them, a girl named Cornelia Chow, what was going on. She told me that the president had been shot. I screamed "I don't believe you!" I upped my running and reached the front of my house in less than 10 minutes.

My dad's car was in the driveway. My dad's car was never in the driveway during the day. Never. My dad was never home during the day. Never.

I blasted through the back door into the kitchen to the dining room. Our "den" as my mom called it, was left of the dining room. Both of my parents were sitting on the old green couch in the den, watching television and crying.

I had never seen my 37 year old father cry. That's when I knew it was true.

Matt Dodge, Delaware:
I was a second grader at St James School in the Valley, and can still remember the announcement coming over the school PA system that the president had been shot, and all of the school was dismissed for the day. It was odd to dismiss everyone at that point (in my second grade mind), because school was going to be over in less than an hour anyway.

In retrospect, it prepared me for, as you put it, the next "unforgettable instance of shock, grief and communion", when my #2 daughter, in high school, showed up at my office with two of her friends on September 11, 2001, scared and wondering "what are we supposed to do?" after being dismissed from school. (Meanwhile, the phone tree was activated for elementary school daughters numbers 3 & 4, and #1 was checking in from college in Tennessee.)

It is still a seminal moment in our generation, after 50 years. I spent my birthday earlier this year at the Newseum in Washington D.C., where there were special displays on the journalism/ coverage of the Kennedy Assassination, the parade route in Dallas, and family photos of the Kennedys by their personal photographer. It was quite powerful to see the happy family images juxtaposed with the horror of that day in Dallas. In anticipation of the anniversary next month, I just finished reading Stephen King's '11/22/63,' perhaps to give me an alternative view on the events. No spoiler alert if you have not read it, but it really has brought many thoughts to mind over the last few days.

Jacqueline Kennedy in mourning, 1963.The Associated Press

Therese Driscoll:
Thanks for all of your wonderful stories over the years. Your writing enlightens us, and makes us proud to be from Syracuse. Here is my memory of that sad day in 1963:

Having just turned four years old a week before, I do not remember President Kennedy being shot, but I remember the day. My great grandparents babysat me at their home on Jasper Street, while my mother went out to shop for a new dress. I recall them, Mary and Rocco, both Italian immigrants, sitting in front of the TV in their matching wooden rocking chairs. They were rocking fast, in sync with each other, and both of them had tears streaming down their faces. I felt confused and worried that the grownups taking care of me seemed to be falling apart. Minutes later, my Mom, also crying, rushed through the door and scooped me into her arms. We talked about this day many times over the years. She said all the women in Chappell's Department Store on James Street dropped their things and rushed home at the crushing announcement. I am so happy to have one of the two rocking chairs in my home today, a special reminder of my great grandparents, but also of President Kennedy, and what he meant to so many people.

Onondaga County Judge Joseph Fahey:

I was in a 9th grade social studies at St. Anthony of Padua High School on the city's South Side when we were informed, over the loud speaker, that shots had been fired at President Kennedy in Dallas. Needless to say the classroom went completely silent as we waited for news. The reports were initially confusing and at one point we were told that Vice-President Johnson had been assassinated. I remember the nun teaching the class letting out a sigh and saying aloud, "Thank God it was only Johnson." I remember being somewhat taken aback by the sentiment but Kennedy was the first Roman Catholic President, so I guess I shouldn't have been completely surprised. A few moments later, we were told the President was dead and school was dismissed early.

When I arrived home from school both my parents were home. My mother was crying and my father was angrier than I ever recall seeing him. He couldn't stop talking about Texas. It wasn't very complimentary. Little did I know that some of our youthful innocence died that day.

Ron Fairbank:
We've talked before about Viet Nam.

That's where I was on that day in Dallas. I was part of the first 16,500 troops sent over to "advise" the South Vietnamese. I arrived in Saigon on Aug. 13, 1963. We were the first "permanent" troops at Tan Son Nhut Airbase/Airport. Our predecessors did only 3-6 months temporary duty (TDY) and were billeted in various hotels downtown. We got billeted in "Tent City" - six men to a tent - as there were no other facilities and we were there for one year.

Heard the news on transistor pocket-size radio - outside my tent, in the morning but bits and pieces only due to reception, took a couple of hours to finally get the whole story. I was overwhelmed by his assassination as all of us were - but my tent mates and I were very worried about what would happen next: Who was going to bring us home now, since he sent us there? Would our role change? What was going to happen? We had no idea, and felt completely detached from the USA. Very scary!

I (had) watched ... from the tent area (as) fighter planes took off from the Vietnamese Air Force area of our base and then strafed and rocketed the Presidential Place in downtown Saigon the day they killed President Ngo Diem - who basically had been protected by President Kennedy. Then towards the end of my tour in 1964, the Gulf of Tonkin happened and I felt like would not be going home as planned -- but luckily they did send us home.

Jim Farfaglia:
November 22nd, 1963
Even with 50 years heaped upon it,
even though other memories,
other tragedies,
have since been known,
this one burns eternal:

The principal's voice over the PA,
his incomprehensible news
raining down on our third grade world.

The classroom cut-up, trying to make a joke,
as we tried to make sense of it all,
our teacher frowning through her tears.

The early dismissal,
walking the streets of Fulton,
cars dragging with the weight of the news.

Crossing the bridge of our innocence,
the once lively river below,
now just chilling water.

The stream of words from our TV,
Cronkite, Brinkley--all mankind--
remembering one man, beloved by all.
Judy Farrell, Syracuse:
On November 22, 1963, I was in my office in the Radio/TV Dept. on the main campus of SU when I heard the news of the assassination of President Kennedy on the SU station, WAER-FM. After experiencing the numbing shock of this news, many of us headed right over to Hendricks Chapel on the quad to join together in prayer and healing. (The old TV/Radio Dept. included the Empire FM School of the Air, a taped program network broadcast throughout New York state and parts of New England, directed to elementary school systems to be heard via radio in various classrooms. Located in a prefab behind the SU Library which housed the TV/Radio Dept./Journalism school, this department was the training ground for journalism and broadcast graduate students. This program was the precursor to the Newhouse School of Communications, constructed on University Place and dedicated in 1964 by President Johnson.) I was there for that event, also.

I was working at 'School of the Air' at that time and we spent the next hour consoling one another and questioning: Who? Why? Went home, followed the news coverage, gathered with family that weekend for consolation and prayer and then witnessed the shooting of Oswald right on TV! Essentially we were all glued to the news coverage on all the networks and cried a lot watching the funeral procession. It was 50 years ago but images of that horrid weekend are embroidered forever in my mind.

Lillie Fields, Syracuse:
On No. 22, 1963, I was a third grade teacher at Croton Elementary School in Syracuse. This school is currently known as Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Elementary School.
I opened the classroom door to walk my pupils to the cafeteria. I noticed in the hallway, across from my classroom, Ms. Virginia Votti, another third grade teacher, crying in the hallway. Of course, I asked how I could help her. Although it was hard for her to talk, she managed to share the sad news that President John F. Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas. Honestly, the rest of that day was very sad. It was so sad that the day could not end fast enough for me. I did not want to talk with my students until I had more information about exactly what happened and why it did happen. Therefore, I wanted to talk to them the following Monday morning.

At the time of the assassination, I did not have a driver's license. Therefore, my bus ride home was a somber event. Many people on the bus and streets were sad and some were crying.

My husband, Milton Fields, was a social studies teacher in Roosevelt Jr. High School in Syracuse. After he arrived home, with our 2-year-old baby girl from our babysitter, we spent most of the weekend watching the shocking news unfold about the assassination on our little black and white television in our Syracuse home.

The events of Nov. 22, 1963 were sad yet powerful. The news unleashed a wave of sorrow in schools and in cities in our nation.
Onondaga County District Attorney William "Bill" Fitzpatrick:
Mr. Falcone walked into our 6th grade classroom at OLA in Brooklyn and quietly said, "I'm sorry to tell you the President's been shot in Dallas" and a normally rambunctious group of 11-year-olds sat strangely silent. It wasn't until I got home that my sobbing mother told me that JFK was dead.

Mom was the daughter of Irish immigrants and learned as a child that an Irish-Catholic American could never be president, or so she thought before John Kennedy arrived on the scene. She had met the future President in a random street encounter, along with my big brother, a few years earlier. A very gracious Senator Kennedy was so impressed by my Mom, he actually invited her inside the political club he was visiting for lunch and he managed to turn my brother into a lifelong Democrat. Much more than a President died that day in Dallas. As Whittier said, "Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these, It might have been."

James S. Flanagan, Norwich:
I read your recent column and saw that you have requested memories of the day President John Kennedy was murdered. At that time, I was 11 and in grade 7 at St. Paul's School in Norwich. I have clear and precise memories of that day and the events of the next few days as we were all hit by emotional shock after emotional shock.

That Friday afternoon, Nov. 22, a little before 1 P.M., our nun told us she had to briefly step out of the classroom and said she would quickly return. She did not. After perhaps five or maybe even ten minutes, the students had become rather loud as they talked about their plans for the upcoming weekend. Surprisingly, our school principal appeared in the doorway and just stood there. At first I expected we were about to be reprimanded for making so much noise, but that woman, an elderly, firm yet compassionate Dominican nun powerfully named Sister Tarcisious, spoke one sentence: "President Kennedy has been shot in the head in Dallas." Then she just walked away. There were audible gasps in the room and she had certainly won the attention of the 40 kids in that crowded classroom. Actually, my first thought was that the principal's comment was just to get our attention and I thought it was unfair or in poor taste to say something like that.

Only when our own teacher returned moments later and repeated the words did it really hit me. We did what probably every Catholic kid in Catholic schools from Maine to California did during that time in limbo. We all stood to recite the rosary. We did not get far in our prayers when the principal returned to the doorway and simply said through her tears, "He's dead." She shrugged her shoulders when she said this and for 50 years I have interpreted that motion as one of complete submission to the loss of her president, our president -- the first Catholic president in the White House. It was almost as if she was admitting defeat and that the Catholic influence in our national government was now, tragically, cut short.

I remember kids crying. Not just quiet sobs kept to oneself, but weeping. I saw full-grown, adult Dominican nuns break into tears. It deeply unnerved me. I know I felt as if I had been punched in the chest when the news of his death was reported to us. but seeing those nuns, women who seemed to always be in control and who ran their classes with strict discipline, dissolve into tears was virtually impossible to comprehend. It felt as if the world had turned upside down.

I remember walking home that afternoon with my classmate, Mike Ryan. All we talked about during our mile walk was of the shooting of the president and how it might have happened. It seemed so overwhelming for an 11-year-old. When I reached my home, I vividly remember sitting in front of a black and white Zenith television set watching the news and trying to gather as much information as I could. I learned new words and terminology: motorcade, Parkland, triple overpass, grassy knoll, Texas Book Depository, Officer J.D. Tippit and the most menacing of all, Lee Harvey Oswald. As I watched late into the afternoon and early evening, my father returned home. He was a surgeon at Chenango Memorial Hospital and a man not given to displays of emotion. He stood near the television for a few moments and all he could say is, "It's a terrible thing; it's a terrible thing." And I saw him shed a tear. I had never seen that before. It was the second time that day that I felt unnerved, and all sense of certainty was quickly disappearing.

That evening I watched as Air Force One arrived at Andrews AFB and saw Mrs. Kennedy step off the plane holding RFK's hand. She was still wearing that blood-covered dress. I can still see President Johnson and Lady Bird come to the microphone looking exhausted and gaunt and I can still hear his voice as he told us that he needed our help and God's.

The next morning I got a telephone call from our parish priest and he asked if I could serve as an altar boy for Saturday's 7 a.m. mass. I rode my bike to the church and discovered the Mass was to be dedicated to President Kennedy. In those days, when there was a death, black vestments and altar coverings were the order of the day. It was a gloomy, cold day with intermittent rain.

The grief in the church, which was rather full for an early morning Saturday mass, was palpable.

Later that day, I returned to the television and watched the removal of JFK's personal items from the Oval Office. I clearly remember watching workmen carry his rocker out of the White House and it was done during a steady rain in DC.

I can clearly remember watching Mrs. Kennedy and Caroline approach the casket and Caroline reaching under the flag and touching to wood. That scene has always stayed with me.

The next day, Sunday, was perhaps the strangest of those four long days. My father always made his "rounds" visiting his patients at the local hospital after Mass. I often went with him. He would park me in a small office he used in the hospital which was fine with me, because it had a television. I turned it on and over the next half hour or so, I was frozen to the chair as I watched the images of Oswald being brought to an awaiting police vehicle. I sat in the chair, stunned, as Jack Ruby stepped from the crowd and mowed down Oswald. When my father walked into his office, he found me sitting, frozen, in that chair and staring at that television.

I remember so much: JFK Jr. saluting his father's casket, Mrs. Kennedy's stoic dignity as she walked in the funeral procession and as she lit the eternal flame. When Mrs. Kennedy died in 1994, Newsweek magazine published a letter I had written remembering how much I had learned about dignity, courage, grace under pressure by watching that remarkable woman. She showed us all what a devoted First Lady can accomplish and now I realize she was so very young.

It is odd, perhaps. But I even remember my parents had planned a cocktail party for Friday evening, November 22, but canceled it out of respect to President Kennedy. Fifty years later, I remember what I was wearing and I can still find the exact spot where my seat was located in that grade seven classroom. I can close my eyes and I see it all. Mostly, I remember the shock of it all and what it was doing to the adults near me. I knew what had happened was profound but my parents and other adults knew things would never be the same and that realization showed in their concerned faces

Today, 50 years later, I can retrace the steps I took on November 22, 1963. St. Paul's is now Holy Family. There are no nuns and the kids who attend there today must view those events in Dallas as ancient history and as remote as Pearl Harbor was to our generation. As I walk down the main street of Norwich, only two businesses operating in 1963 remain -- the Colonia Theatre and NBT Bank's headquarters. While a significant number of businessez have disappeared, the buildings remain along with the memories. Most of the adults in our lives, including my parents, are now gone and they have taken their memories of November 22, 1963 with them.

I notice that November 22 falls again this year on a Friday. I will be reliving many of the events of those four 1963 November days. And despite the negative stories of JFK and his life that have been told over the past 50 years, I still think of him in the most positive terms. He remains a hero to me, not because of his tragic death, but because of the accomplishments of his life and his contributions as a national leader. When I think of him and that time in my life, I remember the inspiration he gave to the youth of this nation. I remember his optimism and his beautiful family and all the promise his youthful leadership offered. I believe I can honestly say I miss President Kennedy and every November, I grieve his loss for myself and my country.

Rita Fratto:

I was almost 13 years old, in eighth grade at Grant Junior High. I remember it like yesterday and I think that can be said by most if not all of my generation. It was one of those defining moments! I was in physical education class and was changing out of those ugly gym uniforms we had to wear. Anyway, we were in the locker room and someone said they just shot President Kennedy, those were the exact words. In those days, today's ipods were transistor radios and someone had one on. Within minutes Mr. Grier, who was our VP, made an announcement for all of us to back to homeroom. When we got there it was announced that President Kennedy was dead.

I can still feel the pit in my stomach and the looks on all my classmates. One of those classmates is still my best friend; we've been friends for over 50 years. Well, we were all dismissed early from school and all of us walked in those days. Denise and I walked down Michaels Avenue, down Willamae Drive to Lemoyne Ave, there we parted to go home: She went right and I went left. We were stunned! When I arrived home my mom was upset and my dad was on his way home. I was the oldest of six and my Mom had just had my brother on October 2nd of that year.

The whole time the two TVs we had were on and we were glued from Friday, November 22nd until the funeral. I remember sitting in our kitchen watching as I worked at the table. I listened to Walter Cronkite in those days because my parents did, so channel 5 was on the entire time - (including) seeing Jack Ruby get shot right in front of me. My Dad said OMG. I remember the funeral when John Jr. saluted and the young man who played 'Taps' on the horn cracked, because he was crying. So many sad, vivid memories, that feel like it just happened ...

It was right before Thanksgiving.

Alex Frazier, Syracuse:
Where was I when President Kennedy was shot? At Central Tech. Study Hall. I was sitting there all alone, which often was the case, as I was a card-carrying "nerd" and a "loner." I did have one thing, though, I was always noted for - my little hand-held transistor radio. Suddenly, just out of the blue, all the popular student crowd was all over me. As it turns out, the President had just been shot and I had the only radio within "earshot"! While it was, in itself, a tragic event, for me, just ever so briefly, it was also a warm social event I never forgot.

Maxine Fuller:
In November of 1963, I was less than a month away from turning 13, a seventh grader who was still adapting to the "big" junior-senior high school I had started at in September. I was far more interested in my own world of family and friends than in the larger world, or what at school would have been termed "current events."

But in the fifth grade, as part of a school exercise, I had written a letter to President and Mrs. Kennedy. I have no recollection of what I wrote, but in a couple of weeks a manila envelope arrived with a gracious form letter from the president, along with two glossy black-and-white photos of the Kennedys. I was enthralled. My parents, although not overtly political, were lifelong Republicans. My mother, in particular, seemed somewhat bemused by my interest in the first family.

On that fateful day in November, I was not feeling well and had stayed home from school. Both of my parents were at work, and being home alone, I had turned on a radio to fill the silence that was a little intimidating. The news bulletin that President Kennedy had been shot was a shock; the subsequent announcement that he had died was even more dreadful. I paced the floor, not knowing how to handle what I had just heard. I turned on the television to be sure it was true. Feeling desperately alone, I called my mother at work. She did her best to comfort me and assured me we would talk much more when she got home.

There have been several more "where I was when I heard" moments in my life, but that day in November 1963 was the first, and I will never forget it.
Marilyn A. Garrow:
Nice article in today's paper about our friends, Mike and Diane Byrne.

At the time of the JFK assassination, my husband, Wayne Garrow, was in the Army stationed TDY at Homestead AFB, south of Miami, Florida and was at the field location near the Everglades. I was working in an office trailer on the edge of the Everglades near Florida City, Florida. We were 21-years-old. We both heard the news on radios at our respective locations and could not believe that our favorite president had been wounded. My husband's unit was immediately placed on high alert. No one knew who had shot the President at that time so they were placed on high alert in the event it was an attack from our enemies, which at that time was Cuba and Russia. We were all praying that he would survive because the first news report only said that he had been wounded; we did not immediately know how serious his wounds were. News traveled much more slowly in 1963 than it does in today's world.

We watched TV that whole weekend in disbelief that the President had died. We saw the real time pictures of Jackie in her pink suit with the blood stains on it, the picture of their son, John-John, saluting. And then, unbelievably, watching the real-time shooting of Lee Harvey Oswald by Jack Ruby. The whole weekend was surreal. We had never witnessed anything of that magnitude in our lifetime. And I am still emotional even today when I talk about it.

Keith A. Gatling:
I was 7-years-old and home sick from school. I had just woken up from a nap when my mother came into my room and said that President Kennedy had been shot in Dallas.

Now, for some reason, I knew enough to know that Dallas was in Texas. I also knew that Texas was in the West. So my initial take on the situation was that the President was in the town square with Oswald, and someone said "20 paces, turn, and shoot," just like in the movies and TV shows.

Twenty-three years later, I was talking to a student who worked at the library with me, and she was talking about her upcoming wedding. When I asked the date, she said November 22nd, and I just froze. When she asked me what was wrong, I told her that that was the day that President Kennedy was assassinated, and she said words that have since put every national tragedy into perspective for me:
Keith, I wasn't even born then.

She wasn't even born. Just like I was born long after Pearl Harbor, my parents were born long after the Lusitania, and my youngest daughter was born after September 11th.
But more in line with my personal experience, somewhere around 1994 I went to a conference about Baby Boomers and the Church. The speaker went on to say that the Boomers are not one monolithic cohort, but are really made up of two distinct groups: the group from 1946 to 1955, and the group from 1956 to 1965. The way to tell the difference between the two groups is to look at how they reacted to President Kennedy's assassination.

The older group's reaction was generally along the lines of "Oh no! Our new, neat, young President is dead!" The younger group's reaction was "How come there aren't any cartoons on this weekend, and every channel is showing the exact same thing (with the exact same camera angles)?"

I was in the second group. While I understood that something important was going on, I didn't get why every single channel (and there were seven of them in the NYC area, where I grew up) had to show the same thing. Couldn't someone leave something on for the kids?

Thirty-eight years later, things had changed. There were actually cable channels dedicated to children's programming, and so when September 11th happened, after hearing that something truly awful had happened, my eight-year-old daughter, and her friends, were able to turn on Nickelodeon and watch Spongebob without so much as a crawl across the screen. This was their space. Their refuge from the rest of the ugly world. And with the exception of one episode of NickNews (I think) that was specially tailored to talk them through this, they were left alone, while all the other channels dealt with it.

Chuck Gilmore, Moravia:
I was 14, a 9th grader at Roxboro Junior High School (now Roxboro Middle School) in Mattydale, moving down the hallway to my last class, when I heard someone passing on a wild rumor that President Kennedy had been shot. As a 9th grader, I'd heard lots of "true" things that later turn out to be totally untrue, so I considered this news on November 22nd as being made up by someone looking for some excitement. But a few seconds later, as I passed by a doorway to a classroom, I saw the French teacher leaning on the jam, red-faced and teary-eyed. I was bothered by the thought that the wild rumor might be true.

Nothing was said at my last class, no announcements were made (as happened in some schools), but when that class was over and we were all back in the hallways, getting ready for bus dismissal, the noise and commotion was loud and chaotic, all talk having to do with the president having been shot. Transistor radios were a new technology, and a couple of the girls had them in their purses. Reception was lousy in the classroom, so boys with long arms took turns holding them out the window while rest of us pressed close together, trying to hear anything. There was lots of information from Dallas, but there was no news yet on Kennedy's condition. So at least he was maybe just wounded. Hopefully, just wounded.

But when I got home after a remarkably quiet bus ride, the news from the TV set was that the president was indeed dead. A numbness came over me. What had happened had never entered my mind as ever possible again in American history. My parents had never experienced anything like this. We were together in a shared numbness.

The doorbell rang, and I looked up to see my bus driver holding my cornet case in her arms. I had left it on the bus. She hadn't heard Kennedy was dead. I don't remember if I even thanked her.

We watched TV for the next four days. Network coverage was continuous, repetitive, numbing. We saw the reality of the new truth when the casket and Jackie returned to the airport in Washington. Johnson gave a short speech that the microphones couldn't really pick up. We saw the casket lying in state in the White House on Saturday, Oswald's murder and the casket moving to the Capitol on Sunday, and then Kennedy's funeral on Monday. We didn't want to do anything but watch TV.

I remembered how as a little kid the conversation grownups often had was what they were doing when they heard the news that Roosevelt had died. I always felt left out of that common, uniting experience because he died four years before I was born. But on this day, November 22, 1963, my generation now had its common experience connection with the older generations and would be the frequent topic of conversation for many, many more years.

Kennedy's death was especially devastating for me as I had been a Kennedy fan since the Wisconsin primary (where I lived before moving to North Syracuse), and I was actually going to get a chance to see my hero at the Boy Scouts National Jamboree the next summer. Now I would see the new president, Lyndon Johnson. So disappointing.
Michael A. Gilmour, Cicero:

From a 78-year-old who has witnessed life of every manner, both good and ugly, I still remember that November day of 1963.

I was 100 miles away from home at my hunting camp in Lewis County in the foothills of the Adirondacks. It was 6 miles on a logging trail to civilization in the nearest small community. This was my first vacation as a NY State Trooper with 1 and a half years' service from working our regular 12 hour shifts. We were required to submit a memorandum advising our vacation contact location prior to leave. It was a problem for me as there was no electricity, cell phones or TV. The local general store would take calls and forward messages via the first hunter to pass through headed to Wahallula. I had been in the woods all day and returned to my lodge at dusk.

After the usual removal of wet gear, boots & wiping down my rifle I opened the draft on the Round Oak pot belly, put in a log and set down to enjoy a ginger brandy. Sitting aside the stove with my camp dog was my greatest pleasure at the end of the hunt. I turned on my new transistor radio to listen to the news. That is when I heard that President Kennedy had been assassinated. I was stricken with the loss to the country and unknown repercussions. I thought: I have to talk to someone. I dressed and walked to a cabin about a quarter of a mile down the road where I knew there was an old-timer staying for the season. I knocked on the door and entered. "Old George" was sitting aside his wood stove, illuminated by a single kerosene lamp and smoking his pipe. He just looked up but said nothing. I asked him if he had heard the news and he nodded yes. There was little conversation between us as there was little information to dissect. This was not the era of instant news. We only knew that the President had been killed.

Later that evening another group of hunting companions en-route to their camp a short distance from mine, stopped by as usual to say hello. This particular group of 5 consisted of full time either NY & NJ National Guard employees at what was then Camp Drum. Instead of the usual happy greetings, they were a somber unit. They had lost their indirect Commander in Chief and did not know what was to follow.

The next day I traveled to the Village of Natural Bridge to call SP Zone headquarters to check about possible recall to duty. In my over 30-year enlistment in the NYSP, I will never forget the event of Nov. 22, 1963.

Ron Glasgow:
I was a farm boy from Fabius and we didn't have a lot. Both of my parents were poor before the Great Depression, so we were brought up with similar ideals. I never wore new clothes until I was in the ninth grade, when I had outgrown all my cousins. My shoes were round when the style was pointy. My pants were baggy when the rage was skin-tight. And forget about those new button-down collar shirts or sweaters with elbow patches. On a Friday morning in eighth grade, my mother insisted I wear these baggy, red hand-me-down pants; they looked new, most likely for a reason. I was mortified. "Binky wears red pants," my mother said, of a high school senior who rode my bus, of which my father was the driver. I thought that if Binky wears red pants, they must be okay.

The mortified feeling lasted from homeroom period throughout the day, with my face blushing to complement the red pants. Gym class never felt so good, when I could get out of those pants. Gym was the period before study hall, my last class of the day. I could make one more period. And that's when the announcement came over the speaker in all rooms that our president had been assassinated. The red pants didn't matter to anyone the rest of that day, especially me.

I visited Dealey Plaza for the first time this July. The red pants came back in my mind.

Jim Grenga:
At the time I was working the all-night shift at GM and had been asleep when my wife then woke me to tell me he was shot in Dallas. Of course sleep was not possible after that. I was just 20 then. Nothing was ever quite the same after that. We lost a president that the youth of that time really associated with, being the youngest president to serve and with two young children.

Carol Haber:
We were living in Oneonta. It had been a warm Octocber with so many sunny days. November arrived and it was nasty. Kids were sick. Friday, Nov. 22nd. was crisp, sunny and cold. Gary was 3, Pat was 7 months. I decided to take them for a long walk, stroller, bike and many hills. Arrived home at 1:35 and turned on CBS as my one soap was "As The World Turns."

Walter Cronkite was announcing that President Kennedy has been shot. I soon heard that he had died. Bill was teaching at an Oneonta School and I wanted to call and tell them the news. I did not call, as thought: It can't be true.

It is Oneonta Alumni Weekend. We have friends coming from Long Island to stay. Basketball game, etc. I get a call from my mother in Binghamton that my Dad, with severe emphysema, is going into the hospital. He had a permanent 'trach' on Nov. 23rd. and lived with that for 4 years.

What I remember most is the TV showing President Kennedy speaking. Gary kept saying he's not dead; he's on TV. We had to go to Binghamton. I didn't get to watch TV as most people did. I've been watching so much recent coverage and it makes me cry. People my age will never forget where we were.

My granddaughter Isabella had to do a report a few years ago and asked me what was the most memorable event in my life. I shared this story with her.
Dennis Haley, Arizona:

I was in kindergarten at St. Charles school in Westvale when Sister Columkill (?) gathered all the students together and told us that we needed to go home for the day. Don't recall her giving us a reason, just to gather our things and walk home (we could do it in those days). I also remember the following Monday when school was canceled and my family being glued to the TV watching the funeral procession. I can still hear the dirges playing in my head as if it was yesterday.
Susan Hamilton, Syracuse:
The event that changed so much of the world caught me as a 14-year-old high school freshman at a Catholic school in Dallas. It was a Friday, and though we all knew that the president, vice-president, and their wives were participating in a parade through downtown, I was more focused on that night's football game and 'hoot'n'anny.' In our history class that morning, my classmates and I had a lively discussion about President Kennedy and whether protestors might attend his visit. After lunch, as I drowsed in Latin class, I became aware of nuns hurrying around in the halls. One burst into our classroom, her face as white as her religious robe, and exclaimed, "The President has been shot at & taken to a hospital! Johnson too!" (Only later we learned that the Texas governor, John Connally, was struck by bullets, rather than Lyndon Johnson.)

For a moment, we schoolgirls just stared at one another and said nothing. When the bell rang for the end of the period, everyone talked at once in the halls. Mechanically, we reported to the next period's classroom, and there we began to cry when the principal announced over the loud speaker that President Kennedy was in critical condition. It was only minutes later, as we recited the rosary, that we learned of his death. The highly structured school schedule was abandoned, as students milled in the hallway, crying and hugging. I called my mother to come pick me up, for school was dismissed. As we drove home, I remember church bells tolling, the flag at an elementary school at half-mast, and radio announcements about the manhunt for the gunman.

My father had come home for lunch, and as he drove back through downtown, he found streets blocked everywhere and people running around in confusion.

On Sunday my parents had guests; one of my father's co-workers from the bakery and the man's wife and little girls came over for the afternoon. My mother had been watching TV for most of the weekend, and it was her shocked cries that brought me running downstairs. Lee Harvey Oswald, arrested for the assassination, was gunned down in the entrance to the Dallas police station by Jack Ruby, right in front of the TV cameras. We all watched the coverage together, just as on Monday, declared a day of national mourning, our church filled with Democrats, Republicans, and even John Birchers.

My own attention soon returned to the familiar frivolities of being 14, and I got over my profound sense of shock that a president could be gunned down in the street, with his wife sitting beside him. The chaos of that day was only the beginning, though, of the new political age in which we would all have to grow up.
Onondaga County Family Court Judge Michael Hanuszczak:
I was in the second grade and a student at St. Nicholas grammar school on Fillmore Avenue in Buffalo.

I recall seeing a gentleman dressed in a suit and tie knock on the door to our classroom and hearing him speak in a hushed tone to our teacher.

None of my classmates or I had ever seen this man before. After he spoke with Mrs. Wanek, our teacher, she then announced to us that President Kennedy had been shot and was dead. All of the students became very quiet. An announcement of the shooting then came over the loudspeaker system and Mrs. Wanek then led us in a prayer before ending the school day.

On the bus ride home from school we all decided that the unknown man who came to the door must have been an FBI agent.

On the ride home from school I also recall an 8th grade student telling us that his uncle was the vice-president and that he would now be the President. Even as a gullible 2nd grader I knew that was not true.

I did not start crying until I got home and saw my mother crying. She was alone at the kitchen table rolling dough and tears were streaming down her face. She worked part-time at a restaurant in our neighborhood and all the employees were sent home early.

We both recalled and remembered how the year before we had seen President Kennedy in person, riding in an open limousine, when he attended the annual Pulaski Day parade in Buffalo.

My older brother and sister later arrived home from high school and were very upset as was my father, who was usually rather stoic, when he got home from work.

Our television set was on the entire time, even during dinner, something which rarely was allowed.

The television was finally turned off at night but I recall staying up and helping my mom clean the house as we both could not get to sleep.

PS - Over the years I have occasionally had young people who appear before me in Family Court write essays about various topics (e.g. favorite sports team or public figure) and then provide them to me when they return for their next appearance.
These past few weeks I have been asking them if they knew who President Kennedy was and telling them about the upcoming tragic 50th anniversary. I then have been having them write an essay about President Kennedy to turn in to me at their next appearance.
Kathleen Harris, Oswego:
I am Kathleen M. Harris. I am 97 years old, being born Aug. 27, 1916. I was a strander operator at Flexo Wire in Oswego, New York for 34 years. Flexo is now called Oswego Wire, a division of Cooperweld Corporation out of Glassport, Pa.

Nov. 22, 1963, at 3:10 p.m, I was repairing a broken wire on one of my stranders with seven strand brazes to get ir ready for the next shift operator who would be reporting to work at 3:30 p.m. At 3:10 p.m., someone shouted above the roar of the machines that the president had been shot. I was shocked, but hoping he would recover; I continued to repair the break on my machine, had it in running order and went home at 3:30 p.m.

I turned on the TV and Walter Cronkite was announcing that our beloved president, John Fitzgerald Kennedy, died about 2:30 p.m. that afternoon. I fried up hamburgers for my kids for supper, feeling very sad, and thinking that our president would not be able to eat one, too. I grieved for Jackie, her kids and his mother, Rose.

Then the tears and prayers came out in all the churches, too.

Bob Hawes:

Hi Sean -

I had recently turned 7. My mom and I were walking back from the laundry mat. As we started down the street (on foot, no car for the poor back then), people were streaming out of their homes to collectively share the news in disbelief. As I reflect back on it now, I know that folks just had to "gather" as a society of countrymen and neighbors, undoubtedly like similar events in the past and things yet to come (Lincoln assassination, the ending of WWII, Challenger, and 9/11).

Of course memories get jumbled over time and I do recall the later events, too .... the caisson, little John Jr., and Uncle Walter intoning the national tragedy in his sonorous voice on our B/W Motorola Television. Many of the families on the Near West Side (James Geddes Housing Project) worshiped JFK and had his picture hung on their walls.

The 60s seemed a volatile time to me (from a first-person experiential point of view). I know that many have said this in many ways since, but the visceral feeling of living through three major American assassinations in a five year span definitely impacted me and many others even to this day ... I suppose it imbued us somewhat to big happenings(?).

Each of us live in the shared bubble of time we jointly experience. So yes, let us collect the memory of this event together for the future generations so that they too can vicariously sense the history that our generation lived through ....
Cheryl Meyer Hickein:
To a 17-year-old girl in 1963, President Kennedy was the equivalent of a current day movie star. We loved him. I had his picture hanging in my bedroom. I would read all the stories about him in the teen magazines. On the day of the assassination, I was in class at North Syracuse High School. The PA system came on and announced that he had been shot. We did not know then if he was alive or dead. We were allowed to leave school and since I had a car my girlfriends and I piled in and drove to St. Rose of Lima church to pray as hard as we could. It was a day that changed my life; I had previously decided I was going to go into the Peace Corps because "he" asked that of us ... but after he died that dream died for me, too.
Syracuse Common Councilor Patrick Hogan:
Sean, I had heard it in the afternoon in F.W. Clary which was a brand-new school. There was an announcement and then they piped in the live radio broadcast to the classrooms. A lot of kids were upset, with some of the girls crying. I walked home from school with my pal, Phil Guilfoyle, another Irish-Catholic kid. It hit our families hard; the only time I had seen my father cry was when Kennedy had been elected ... you see, he had been alive when Al Smith ran for President in 1928 ( the first Irish Catholic to run for President) and had seen the animosity that had engendered. He never thought a Catholic would be elected President and now he was gone.
Howie Hollander:
I was in the 6th grade, a "senior" at P.S. 2 in Queens. Since we were the graduating class, we were given the privilege of being quietly ushered to the A/V room where we watched a black and white television on top of a rolling cart displaying the continuous coverage from Dallas. I remember some of the kids crying, as did our teacher (only about a half dozen years out of Syracuse University). As a part of the "duck and cover" drill generation, somehow we all sensed that life in the United States was about to change in ways we were too young to understand.

David S. Howe:
I was a student at SU and doing what I always did on Friday. Two fraternity brothers and I were headed for Tarby's, a great old Saloon in Liverpool that had been started by several brothers after they returned from WW II. (Located in the current Nichols Parking lot, I believe.) Russ Tarby worked the grill and made the best chili and cheeseburgers on the planet. We were in downtown Syracuse near what is now Clinton Square. Interstate 81 had not been built through the city and we were going out Salina Street to get to the village. The announcement that President Kennedy had been shot came over the car radio. We were in shock, of course, but hurried to get to Tarby's in hopes of getting details on the TV at the bar. When we came through the door the usual Friday lunch crowd was in a very unusual stunned silence, watching Walter Cronkite in tears, announcing that the president was dead. Cronkite had been, and was, a rock for a whole generation of us, and to see him crying was absolutely unnerving.

I went hunting in the Adirondacks for the next two days and was completely out of contact. When we came out of the woods the radio was reporting the killing of Oswald. All in all an unforgettable, bizarre series of events forever burned in my memory. It really has never been the same since.
Virginia (Vamosy) Hughes:

Yes, I remember where I was on November 22, 1963. I was a senior at The College of Saint Rose, in Albany, NY. At that time, St. Rose was an all-girl Catholic College run by the Sisters of St. Joseph.

Veronica (Vamosy) Hughes, of Marcellus, with President Kennedy in 1963; she met him as part of a trip with the 4-H.Family photo

I was in the dining hall finishing lunch, along with many other students, when the word was sent around the room that President Kennedy had been shot. Right away, the good sisters said we should go upstairs to the chapel to pray for him. At that point we knew he had been shot and that was all. Shortly after, word came that he had died. We were so shocked. The chapel was so silent -- we all sat/knelt there in complete silence -- then the sobs began.

That was to have been our senior balll weekend. Everything was canceled, all classes and the dance. My then-boyfriend, now my husband, John Hughes, was coming up from Delhi to go to the dance with me. Instead he took me home to Stamford, where - with my family - we were glued to the TV all weekend.

It was just nine months previous to that I had the privilege to meet President Kennedy. In November of 1962, I had been selected as one of six 4-Hers out of all those in the U.S. to be on the "4-H Report To The Nation" team. The highlight of our weeklong trip was on Tuesday March 5, 1963, when we reported to President Kennedy. We presented him with a leather-bound book telling the story about 4-H and about each of us. He then talked personally to each of us asking about our 4-H experiences. What an exciting time!

On November 22, 1963, it was hard to believe that the President Kennedy that I had met was dead.

This past spring -- April, 2013 -- the 1963 "Report To The Nation" team met in Washington, DC for our 50th Reunion. It was a great time to share pictures and stories of the past events and years.
Geraldine "Jerry" Hogan Kasperek, Fulton:

It was my son Mikey's sixth birthday. I was driving across the Upper Bridge here in Fulton, running errands for his birthday party, my 3-year-old son Andy, sitting in the front seat next to me, when I turned on the radio to hear the news that our president had been shot!

Oh my God, my God, my God! I started to cry and yell out. What baby Andy thought of my screams, I do not know!

Then we were home. Don't tell me how we got there, I was on auto pilot.

I put Andy to bed for a nap and lay down on the couch to watch Walter Cronkite on TV, tearfully telling the awful truth. JFK was dead! I couldn't get up from the couch, couldn't turn off the TV. I was entranced and heartbroken.

Then-Sen. John F. Kennedy, Syracuse University, 1957.File art

Soon my children, 10-year-old Karen, 9-year-old Lynn and of course Mikey came home from school. Somehow I fixed supper and got a cake into the oven. The party must go on, after all. How do you disappoint a little boy who had been waiting all week to celebrate his special day?

Actually, the party was being held at night. I was secretary of the Fulton Woman's Bowling Association and I would be at the lanes over the weekend conducting our annual bowling tournament.

My friend Mary came to help with the party. She was expecting her fourth child, and as the little boys at the party played we held onto each other and shed our tears. She went into labor later that night and her baby was born early the next morning.

I was at the bowling alley on Sunday, when bad news came again, this time over the TV set at the lanes. Jack Ruby had shot Lee Harvey Oswald, who had shot JFK! My God, I thought, will it never end?

The truth be told, history never ends. Now, 50 years later, my son, Mike Hogan, is the father of two grown sons of his own and even though he was just a little kid back in November 1963, he does clearly remember the day when JFK was shot, because as he is always quick to say: "It was on my sixth birthday, right, Mom?"

Natalie Kallette:

The day Kennedy was murdered will always remain in my heart and memory. After we learned the tragic news, my late husband and I went to Edward Smith School to tell our youngest child, Keith, seven years old! He had just been dismissed. He was as shocked as we were! There was another boy standing next to him who heard us and casually said:

'So what? So What?'

(Natlie underlined these words several times)

What a terrible thing for anyone to say after such heartbreaking news! I often wondered about that child and if he ever realized how sad his reaction was to our president's killining?! Did he later realize the tragedy every American an d the world faced that terrible day?

James Kenty:

November 22, 1963:

I was 22 years old, and I woke up early that day for an appointment downtown. As I recall, the appointed time was 7 a.m., at the Chimes Building on Salina Street. The day I was expecting had finally arrived. It seems that Uncle Sam was in need of a few more men, and so my Selective Service number came up the week before Thanksgiving.

My father dropped me off downtown and I joined the crowd of draftees on the 11th floor of the Chimes Building. I proceeded with the necessary paperwork, then stood in line for a physical exam. At around noon, we were given meal tickets for lunch at a cafeteria across the street. The lunch break was certainly welcome.

It was sometime after lunch that I learned the President had been shot.

In the context of the Cold War, such as the recent Cuban missile crisis and saber rattling in Berlin, my thoughts were that the event might be a foreign plot and could even trigger a nuclear war.

Those thoughts were on my mind while waiting to board a bus to the airport. By early evening it was getting dark and there was snow in the air. Finally, I was on a Mohawk Airlines DC-3 (my first flight) and took off for Fort Dix, New Jersey.

Syracuse Common Councilor Jean Kessner:
I actually remember the Kennedy assassination best through someone else's eyes.
I was 16-years-old, a high school junior, and in French class when the principal opened the class room door and announced that all students were to report to the cafeteria; President Kennedy had been shot.

We all jumped up, some of us gasped, some asked grounding questions like what? How? Did he die? But my friend and classmate Jeannie Bruce was instantly and completely heartbroken. While I was stunned and quiet, Jeannie sobbed and supported herself along the wall as we walked down the hallway toward the cafeteria. It was not theater; it was genuine and profound sorrow, and the first experience I had with it.
Jeannie's family was Roman Catholic and loyal Democrats who had worked hard for Kennedy's election. They had named their newborn son John Fitzgerald Bruce, and received a special photograph from the White House, dedicated to the baby and signed by his namesake. Jeannie had shown us the picture and we had all been impressed by the special recognition from Washington D.C. to our small southern Indiana town. And now this.

In the cafeteria, we watched as the old black and white television sets brought the news that the President had died. No one spoke. Something fundamental had changed and we weren't sure what it was.
Andrea King:
In 1959, my first year of college, I joined the Young Democrats at Keuka College and, when the Young Democrats got up a special bus trip, I was thrilled to shake Bobby Kennedy's hand at a reception in Canandaigua. I was for JFK all the way, even though at that time the voting age was 21, so I couldn't vote.

In September of 1960, JFK gave a speech at the Soldiers and Sailors monument in Clinton Square, and the Young Democrats again ran a bus so we could be there. I can remember that it was a cold (but sunny) day, and we were too far away to hear all that he said, but I was so excited to see Kennedy that the privations didn't matter. We cheered until we were hoarse.

Walter Cronkite and John F. Kennedy, 1963.The Associated Press

On the day that John F. Kennedy died, I had transferred schools and was a senior at Geneseo State. I was in my friend Joyce's dorm room, listening to records, when Sharon, the girl across the hall, came in looking very upset, and said, "You have to come listen to the radio." We said we were listening to records, but she kept insisting, "You have to come and listen to my radio," so we finally went across the hall with her.

We heard a radio announcer say that shots had been fired at the presidential motorcade, and the president's car was on the way to the hospital. I don't know how long we stood there, frozen, as the news continued to pour from the radio. At some point, Joyce and I went back to our separate rooms. I turned on my radio and was glued to it for at least another hour before it occurred to me that I could be watching the whole thing on the TV in the first floor lounge. I stumbled down four flights of stairs and into the lounge, which was packed with students and staff, crying and staring at the news coverage. We all sat transfixed before the screen, afloat in Kleenex and disbelief and sorrow.

At some point, a notice from the administration was circulated, announcing a convocation for 7 that evening in the auditorium. I don't remember eating lunch or dinner that day, but I must have picked up something along the way. At the convocation, some of the history professors spoke to the whole student body about the fact that the constitution provides for presidential succession, what would happen if something happened to LBJ, what the chances were (slim, in their opinion) that this was some kind of Communist plot, and gave us some historical perspective on presidential assassinations. I can remember feeling much relieved to hear those quiet, measured promises of strength and continuity, after a day of chaos and crazy rumors about who the gunman was and why he (or they) did it. Imagine what it would have been like today, with pundits on 100 channels giving conflicting opinions about it! We were lucky we had so few sources of information. I trusted Walter Cronkite to give me the straight deal, and he didn't disappoint.

The students were told that instead of dismissing school the next Tuesday for the Thanksgiving vacation, school was canceled for the next week, so we were free to make arrangements to go home until after the break. A group of us from the Syracuse area squeezed into someone's car, and I made it home to LaFayette by the next afternoon. From that point on, the next several days were spent in front of the TV, watching the hunt for Oswald, his capture, and his death, watching the scenes from the swearing-in of LBJ on the plane, Jackie's never-to-be-forgotten blood-spattered pink suit, seeing the plane arrive in Washington, hearing about the plans for the funeral, then watching the funeral.

I thought I had no tears left by the time of the parade and funeral, but the riderless horse, and John-John's salute, can still bring tears to my eyes. My parents were staunch Republicans and were surprised at the depth of my grief, but for me, it was the first big, undeniable heartache, the death of my biggest hero to date, a loss from which there was no going back, the destruction of the bubble of innocence in which we teenagers from the fifties were cocooned.

I will always remember how Sharon, the girl across the hall from Joyce's room, was unable to put into words what she was hearing on the radio, but needed to share that something had happened that was beyond our imagining, and practically dragged us into her room to hear the news. There was, of course, a radio in Joyce's room, but it would have taken time for it to warm up (are you old enough to remember those days?) and that wasn't good enough for Sharon. And it didn't occur to us to turn Joyce's radio on, just as it took hours for me to think of watching the TV instead of just listening to radio.

Everybody who is old enough remembers that day. Thanks for the opportunity to share those memories with you.

I returned to Keuka in June 1963 to watch my former classmates graduate. The graduation speaker was Martin Luther King, Jr. He spoke without notes for, I think, almost an hour, and blew me off my feet with his erudition, oratory, and persuasive skills. I'm very lucky to have been present at events with RFK, JFK, and MLK. I think there must be a whole subset of us Young Democrats from Keuka who were present for all three events.

Kathy King:

The events of November 22, 1963 are as vivid now as they were 50 years ago. On that day, as a junior in high school, I was in a Math 11 course when an announcement came over the loudspeaker that President Kennedy had been shot in Dallas. Moments later, we learned that he had died. Subsequently, in total shock and disbelief, I only remember standing at my locker getting ready to go home and the complete and utter silence throughout the building. The entire high school was silent! For the next few days, our family was glued to the television set as events unfolded.

Joanne (Brandt) Klamm:

I read your article the first thing this morning, and knew that I had to reply! I am still in "awe" over President Kennedy. Way back in 1960 I was a "Kennedy girl" when he was in Syracuse. We had dinner with him in the Hotel Syracuse and had our picture taken with him. I still have a copy of that article! It was a wonderful day for a young woman at that time. I recall meeting Bobby Kennedy, Pat Lawford and Lady Bird stepped on my foot and sincerely apologized to me! At that time, my name was Joanne Brandt. It was a wonderful experience that I never forgot and enjoyed telling our four children and three grandchildren all about.

Now back to 1963, and my name was and still is Joanne Brandt Klamm. I married Joe Klamm Jr. in 1962 and gave birth to our first son Joey in July 1963. I still recall as if it were yesterday, giving him a bottle sitting on our living room couch watching T.V.. when Walter Cronkite announced that the President was killed. I held my infant son close and remember saying to myself and to him, "I never want you to become President of these United States."

On Sunday, November 24, 1963 we were in Watertown baptizing my best friend's infant son, for whom both Joe and I were proud to be Godparents - "John" Egan - and watching their T.V. after church, and again and still in shock, when Jack Ruby was shot! I recall everyone being glued to their television sets all that weekend and into the next week. We remember a lot of businesses were closed, also.

You never, never forget and I am still in "awe" regarding the whole Kennedy family.

Sandra Kreplin:

I was a high school senior at St. John the Evangelist high school on State Street. I remember an announcement over the PA system in the morning that the President had been shot in Texas. All teaching stopped and we began to pray. Several minutes/hours went by and it was announced that the President had died. There was a lot of crying and school was dismissed.
My mother worked at St. Joseph's Hospital so I walked up the hill to her. A man was sitting out on his porch and asked why all the kids were leaving school at an odd time. We told him what had happened and he didn't believe us at first.We took my mothers car and drove home. My grandmother was sitting in front of the TV but she didn't know what was going on since she was very hard of hearing. All she knew was that "her shows" weren't on and she didn't understand what was going on. We spent the rest of the day watching the horror unroll, learning more but still not understanding why. Even though 50 years have passed it seems like last week. I had worked for President Kennedy's election through "Teens for Kennedy," stuffing envelopes and doing minor work at a downtown location and was incredulous that all that had ended.

Linda Kurpiewski:

I was in the second grade at Riordan Elementary School. We remember vividly my teacher, Miss Christowski crying. That memory stays with me. I also remember watching the news with my Dad and seeing Oswald shot by Jack Ruby and the look on Oswald's face is as clear to me as it was that day in 1963. I can't help but wonder if the world would have the same reaction to such an event today.

Daniel Lawless, Fayetteville:
I have replayed the events of that day and weekend a thousand times in my mind. Fifty years cannot remove it. Friday, Nov. 22, was a normal day at Van Duyn Elementary School until our teacher, Mrs. Dumanian, was called from the classroom. She never left the class for more than a few minutes, as a habit. Mrs. Dumanian was a nice yet strong and firm teacher we all loved. Nearly an hour later, the principal led Mrs. Dumanian back into the classroom and I hardly recognized her. She was crying and trembling as mascara ran down her face. We were told President Kennedy had been assassinated, and I was not sure what that word meant but I soon found out. School was dismissed early and on the walk home on Midland Avenue I saw our crossing guard, Mrs. McKibbon, consoling a Syracuse Transit bus driver who was draped over a fence, holding his head and crying uncontrollably as the bus idled in the street with riders on board.

Two days later, on Sunday Nov. 24, my father called me into house and to the television to see the man who had killed our president. I watched a creepy looking guy with dark hair being led in handcuffs through a jail basement. Out of the crowd jumped a man with a gun and he shot Oswald as the scene turned into a bunch of men in a pile and a television reporter shouting: "Oswald has been that shot! Is that possible?" My father leaped from the courch, tripped over a toy chest and crashed to the floor as he attempted to call my mother at work to let her know.

Downtown Syracuse, early 1960s.Onondaga Historical Association

Enrico Leone, Liverpool:
14:00 hrs., 11/22/1963. I visualize the scene as if it were an hour ago. I was a 19-year-old, medical laboratory technician, at Noble Army Hospital, Ft. McClellan, Alabama. It was after lunch, and I was performing blood typing tests on newly inducted female WACs. As one of the WACs approached me to be tested, she asked if it was true that the president had been shot. I replied that it was, and at that point, she commented that she was glad.

I, and those around me were so dumbstruck by this that we just stopped what we were doing and stared at her. Those that heard her were incapable of a response, as we were in a state of shock over the assassination and her comment.

When I regained my composure, I performed her test, and she left. Fortunately for her, there were no male or female Sergeants nearby to hear. Had there been, GOD only knows what the punishment for that remark would have been.

Beverly Leonti, Skaneateles:
Even today, tears come. Our wonderful president, if he had lived, would have made the world and the USA a better place.

We lived in Baldwinsville, on Tappan Street. Walter Cronkite was on TV. It seemed so sudden. My kids were in school; seemed about noontime. I was having tea. My husband was working at General Electric. I sat and cried in shock. Newspeople were all upset. Walter Cronkie looked so sad, about to cry. People were crying in the streets, all over! USA!! I went outside my home. It was so quiet. No cars going by! An eerie silence. Sad, I stood looking up and down the street. Not a soul. Must be everyone was watching TV or listening to radio.

My kids came home from school. They said people were crying. Even men, as well as women and kids.

President Kennedy left us all with heavy hearts. I dream of him making America better; people loved him. He brought goodness, peace, love energy to all of us. Love and respect for each other. Yes, Kennedy was a great president, young, handsome, so much he could have done. He loved American people and loved helping all people. We miss him still.

Roger Locke:
Before November '63 arrived, I go back to February of 1960, when Senator John F. Kennedy came to Utica to speak. I was lucky to be able to shake his hand. In 1961, while a junior at Clinton Central School, I joined the Naval Reserves. I graduated in '63. I was a hospital corpsman stationed at the Brooklyn Navy Yards.

I had fallen in a passageway, so I was sent to St. Albans Naval Hospital. I was a patient scheduled for surgery on Nov 22, 1963 in the afternoon. I didn't do too much that day while waiting for surgery so I watched TV. I watched the parade in Dallas and couldn't believe what I just witnessed. It was shocking and horrible: I thought, 'How could they kill the president like this?'

I was a young sailor; I was so scared, afraid of what was happening. Of course, the base went into lockdown and my surgery was postponed. I had a very heavy heart and cried; I was all alone, afraid of what was happening, and yet I had to remain strong. It was a very difficult time and of course I watched all the events that took place afterwards.

I was stationed there for a few more years, where most of the patients were from Vietnam. Today as I think back to the '60s, it wasn't a very good period of time with all the assassinations. I still get choked up thinking about it.

Tom Lorenz:

I just read your article (10/20/13) regarding: Where we were when President Kennedy was shot and killed. I was 7- years-old and was in my second grade classroom when I heard the news. I attended Most Holy Rosary School on Bellevue Avenue in Syracuse and the classrooms for second grade were located in the parish center which also housed the gymnasium and cafeteria. Our teacher for my class was Mrs. Mooney. It was a little after 2 pm EST when one of our church's assistant pastors, Rev. William Kelly made a public address announcement throughout the entire school (grades 1-12), that President Kennedy had been killed in Dallas. I'm sure a prayer was offered and then we were told that we would be dismissed from school following the announcement. I remember rushing home and ran into our home to tell my mother, but of course she had already heard the news. On Saturday, Sunday, and Monday, I watched all of the historical events centering on the assassination as well as the President's funeral on TV with my family in our living room. I still read about this event as much as I can. It is one of those moments that you truly never forget where you were when it happened.
I now am 57 and reside down the road in Utica with my family.

Ed Luban:
I was in 7th grade at the Robert Bell School in Chappaqua, NY (Westchester County). I had band practice the last period of the day. When I walked into the auditorium, the face of Dick Oliver, the band teacher, was ashen and he was very somber. I think one of the other kids told me the president had been shot. Of course this was something totally foreign -- it had happened to Lincoln and a few others in the far distant past, but until that moment not in our era. We sat in the auditorium for a little while wondering what to do, then were sent to our homerooms.

My homeroom teacher was Carmen Cesta. (He was then brand-new to teaching and to the school, though he was 47 years old and had already had several other careers. He ended up teaching for 36 years. When he retired, at age 83, he was the oldest working teacher in New York State and was much beloved in the community.) Mr. Cesta taught social studies. I just remember a buzz of activity in his room -- Mr. Cesta had written the latest news on the blackboard -- of course there was no internet, and the only source of information was the radio -- and kids talking among ourselves about this unbelievable event that had apparently happened. I think we stayed till the end of the period, which was the end of the day and week, then got on our regular buses and went home. I don't remember much outpouring of emotion at that time, though I could have been oblivious. It was more about the news event we were experiencing.

Over the weekend of course I watched the TV coverage. And a friend and I wondered whether they would cancel the football games Sunday and school Monday. It turned out to be no for the former and yes for the latter.

Things were different back then, weren't they?

Katherine Macdonald, Liverpool:
In November of 1963 my husband, Malcolm, was on an engineering assignment in a small coastal village in southern Honshu, Japan. We had been there a short time and our Japanese language skills were almost nil.

To learn as much as possible of our new surroundings, we hired a taxi -- the local mode of transportation -- for the day to visit some nearby mountain villages. It was Saturday, November 23rd -- Japan time is 12 hours ahead of U.S. time. Our driver spoke no English but had been told what we wanted to do for the day. We were surprised at our first stop when people came up to us, bowing low, and spoke to us. We had no clue to what was being said and were apprehensive we were intruding in some way. The next villages were the same. The inn, where we had lunch, would accept no payment. We were relieved to arrive home in the early evening. Taped to our door, in English, was the unbelievable. We realized then the deep, heartfelt sympathy that had been extended to us and to our country throughout the day. We were sad we were not able to respond properly.

That day was our introduction to the kindness and caring of a wonderful people who made us welcome for many more years.

Lynn Macleod, Auburn:
Nov. 22, 1963 - my senior year at Valley Stream Central High on Long Island. As I was coming out of an early afternoon class, tearful friends told me that the president was grievously shot. Disbelief! Shock! Things like this don't happen in our 'Camelot' world. School was closed for a week - everyone huddling around live T.V. coverage. Saw Lee Harvey Oswald shot dead by Jack Ruby. Little Caroline and John-John saluting as the caisson passed. "Camelot" was blown away. Controversy and conspiracies abounded (and still do). Russia? CIA? LBJ?

Upon graduation seven months later, my male schoolmates were greeted with draft notices to NAM. Some came home in a box, some maimed, some missing, some died years later from Agent Orange exposure. All were aged beyond their years. No ticker tape parades. They were spat upon, called 'baby murderers.' RFK murdered. Over the years we became immersed in war in the Middle East. No end to killing. I am lucky to remember the days of Camelot but it comes with painful memories. And the caissons keep rolling along.

Skaneateles Town Justice Charlie Major:

It was a real nice fall day and the last week end of archery season was on us. I was an attorney with Bond, Schoeneck and King and took off early to go to Bear Swamp in Cayuga County. I wanted to get to my spot where I had seen a big buck before the gun hunters took over. I stopped at Karlik's gas station in Mandana and went inside to pay. Elaine Karlik was there and had a small black and white TV turned on. She told me, in a calm manner, that someone had shot President Kennedy while he was in his car and they were going to the hospital. Now, I could not believe that a president could be killed and it must be the newspeople making something out of nothing and I continued on. No luck hunting and on way home in Skaneateles I did not even turn on the radio. When I got home our TV was on and I learned from my wife that the President was dead. Shock is not the real word for it, even though I had advance warning.

Joe Masterleo:

Enjoyed your column on the Kennedy recollections very much. As my reading of the printed edition of your newspaper is often hit-and-miss, I regret having missed the general call to join the pool of responders. However, there is a bit of irony as to my circumstance 50 years ago. I was attending American history class as high school junior where the topic of discussion was about presidential succession. That is, who would occupy the presidency should the chief executive, for some reason, be unable to continue -- ie., next in line would be the vice-president, followed by the secretary of state, etc.

The class was about half over, nearing 1:30 eastern time, when the announcement came over the PA system that Kennedy had been shot, followed by confirmation moments later than he was dead. The national anthem was played, and everyone rose to their feet in obedient but numbed silence.

Liverpool High School was then dismissed early, with everyone filing to their lockers and respective school busses in stunned silence. The high school, then located in the village of Liverpool on Hickory Street later became Zogby middle school, and I believe now is owned by a church. I recall the exact location of my room to this day, along with the teacher and the names of the students sitting near me. As I have a little time a midday, tomorrow Nov. 22nd, I just may drive out there and again walk into that room, should it be accessible, just to relive and ponder that moment before resuming the rest of my day. For a part of me, as a part of all Americans living at the time, is still there, somewhere, frozen in a twilight zone of an innocence long-since departed. Who knows? Maybe what left a big hole of despair in us it's still there. Perhaps I can find it again.
Laureen Mastronardi, Fairmount:
The day President John F. Kennedy died I was in 3rd grade. I remember like yesterday. It was in the afternoon. I attended what was Boyd School in Solvay. My teacher was Mrs. Martino. The principal Mr. Tarolli came on the loudspeaker with only the radio on, and the announcer was saying.

"The President has be shot. President John F. Kennedy has been shot."

The whole class was in awe. Many children started crying. After a few moments the principal turned the loudspeaker on again and the radio announcer said, "The president is dead. President John F. Kennedy is dead." At this point the whole class started crying along with teacher.

50 years ago. How we remember all the big incidents in our lives, with the words still ringing in my ears.

Donna Maurillo, California:

In 1960, I had been a Teen for Kennedy, meeting with other young people in a small office in a basement on Salina Street. It was my first foray into politics, but at 15 years old, I was strong for Kennedy. When he spoke at Clinton Square during his campaign, I was the person in the crowd carrying the sign that proclaimed, "We Back Stonewall Jack." I thought I was terribly clever, and I hoped he'd seen it. A few months later, as I attended class at St John the Evangelist high school, we listened to the Kennedy inauguration on the radio. He was Catholic, just like us, and we were proud. I think the Irish in our class were even prouder.

But I remember Kennedy's last day as president, too. That entire weekend comes back too clearly for me. I was working at my first real job, as a clerk for Dun & Bradstreet, which at that time was at 404 Oak Street. The office was a big "bullpen," so when our manager announced that the president had been shot, everyone reacted at the same time. We all were stunned and then hopeful. Maybe he was OK. Maybe it wasn't serious. Who would shoot our president? This wasn't the 1860s!

Shortly after that, word came back that John Kennedy was dead. My first reaction was to run to the ladies' room where I could be alone. As I stood there wiping my eyes with some tissue, I heard a voice echo in the building lobby. "The president is dead."

We all were let off from work early, and I imagine there wasn't a darkened TV in the entire city. As we had dinner in the dining room, we watched as Air Force One landed and Jackie Kennedy was helped out of the plane, her skirt still covered with blood. The casket with the president was carried inside a hearse, and everyone drove away. Later that evening, I was visiting a friend, who remarked that the president was killed by "a viper." She meant "sniper," but it was my only laugh that day.

On Sunday, after Mass, my boyfriend and I watched TV in my living room as the police started to escort Oswald through the building. Suddenly there were shots and a scuffle. The TV cameras were jostled and people were shouting. What just happened? What had we seen? Without instant replay, there was no way to repeat it. A reporter explained that a man had come up and shot Oswald in the abdomen. They were taking him away to Parkland Hospital, where the president had been only two days before. What was happening in this world? This was too crazy.

Offices were closed on Monday, and I went to my friend Marie's house to watch the funeral. We had spent the weekend with our TVs turned on for any bits of news... any sightings of Jackie at the casket. She had arrived at the Capitol rotunda during the weekend with her daughter, who put her hand against the casket under the flag. And they left after only a brief visit. But Monday was the big ceremony... the big farewell.

We had never seen a state funeral before, but the choreography was impressive. Who would have thought to have a horse with boots reversed in the stirrups? Who would have thought to have Kennedy's casket sitting atop the bier that held Lincoln? Who would have arranged so many national leaders to assemble in one huge parade after arriving from around the world? Who would have thought to instruct her son to salute his father's casket as it passed St Matthew's Church? It was all perfectly executed.

And it was humbling to see all those people lining the streets, and all those people in the procession, as they walked all the way to Arlington... not an easy task for Jackie, given her heartbreak and her visibility all over the world's televisions. How did she even explain it to her kids? How had they reacted? Did young John even understand, given that this was only his third birthday?

At Arlington, on a small rise just below the Custis-Lee Mansion, John Kennedy's grave site had been hastily chosen. It was a perfect site, with a view of all those other people who had died in service to their country. Jackie lit the Eternal Flame (how had she thought of that?) and stumbled slightly as she left the site. A young military man blew "Taps" on his bugle, faltering on a note as he lost control. And then it was over.

The next day, a photo of Jackie in her widow's veil appeared on the front page of the Herald-Journal. The caption compared her to the Mona Lisa. I still have that newspaper, along with a few books that I'd acquired before and after the president's death. We went back to our lives, trying to reconcile what had just happened, and learning how to say "President Johnson" instead of "President Kennedy."

Now, years later, whenever I visit Washington, I always think of John and Jackie Kennedy, sitting there in the State Dining Room with foreign dignitaries, listening in the East Room to Pablo Casals perform, walking down those red-carpeted stairs to greet guests in the Cross Hall. I cannot walk through the Capitol Rotunda without thinking of a casket standing there. It's hard to forget. And maybe it's better if we don't.

As an aside, I later met a man in college who had lived in Washington during that time. He was 16 and living on DuPont Circle with his brother, a law student at Georgetown. Mike recalled being among the first in line to enter the Capitol to view Kennedy's casket. Sometimes he catches himself in old newsreels. He was on a rooftop near St Matthew's Church as the funeral party came out. He saw John Jr make his famous salute. He remembers how the city stood still that day, as mourners flooded in from surrounding counties and states.

Marsha Charles McCarthy:

At the time I heard of the president being shot I was in class at St. John the Evangelist School. I remember Sister Margaret Cecelia broke down and cried as we heard. We all thought of Sister as a "tough cookie" but at that moment she became very real to all sitting in that class. As school was dismissed everyone walked around in utter shock not really believing that this could have happened. We were high school students so proud to have a Catholic president. Things like this "just did not happen."

Don McCrimmon, Cazenovia:

I was a rising senior at the University of South Florida in Tampa. I had just parked my car in the Life Sciences parking lot prior to reporting to my work-study job as a laboratory assistant. I heard the news of the shooting on the car radio.

The next days were a blur, but I remember several things vividly. I drove into downtown that midnight to pick up a copy of the first Saturday edition of the Tampa Tribune to read as much detail as possible about the assassination. On Monday the 25th, classes were canceled and a group of perhaps a hundred residential students gathered in front of the single black-and-white television in one of the lounges to watch the state funeral and then the procession to Arlington National Cemetery. During the burial service, a military band performed the National Anthem. The students in the room rose as one.

Janice McKenna, Syracuse:
I was in 5th grade at St. Joseph's school in Massena on November 22, 1963. My brother Mike, who was in 7th grade at the same school, was home sick that day and saw the news break on the TV. He had the foresight to call the school to let our principal know what was happening.

The principal, Sr. Dorothea, was also our fifth grade teacher. She ran into the room and said, "Everyone get on your knees and pray." We didn't know what we
were praying for at first, but we KNEW it was very serious. The principal, who believed that no prayer was more powerful than prayers offered by children,
just wanted the prayers going up as she went to the other 7 classrooms to spread the word. She came back in and told us what we were praying for.

I remember everyone was upset and prayed harder than ever. I also remember being very shaken to see Walter Cronkite, our rock and the most trusted man in America, choke up when he made the announcement that President Kennedy had died.

What a sad, sad time for our country and a very frightening time for children.

Donald F. Merritt:

On Nov. 22, 1963 I was a 10th grader at APW High School. We were in 7th period math class when it came over the loudspeaker that President Kennedy had been shot. We finished class and returned to homeroom for dismissal. Upon going out to the bus, it came over the P.A. that he had died.

When we got back to Parish, my father came out of the office where he worked and asked if I had heard the news. I said yes. Those are my recollections of that day.

Joanne Moffatt, North Syracuse:

I will never forget that sad day in Tacoma, Washington, when I was in line to show my ID at the Commissary at MC Cord Air Force Base, to buy my groceries. I was in total shock when the loud speaker from the base announced that President Kennedy got shot. I could feel the sadness around me and the next few days were overwhelming with the support of the American people and other countries.
Marty Morganstein, Fayetteville:

I was stationed at Carswell Air Force Base in Fort Worth. President Kennedy and his entourage flew into Carswell the night before and spent the night at a hotel in Fort Worth. The next morning he flew to Dallas Love Field. Along with many others, I went down to the flight line to see him off that Friday morning. He and Jackie went along the fence greeting the crowd. Although I wasn't close enough to shake his hand, I was only a few yards away as they came down the fence and I was able to get a very clear look at him.

Later that morning I went to the Officer's Club for lunch and was greeted by the Lieutenant who ran the club. He told me that the president had been shot in Dallas. That was the start of a very "lost weekend." That Sunday morning there was a memorial held at the base and as I was driving home from the service I heard Jack Ruby fire the shot that killed Lee Harvey Oswald.

I can only say that there was a feeling of unreality to the whole episode and that at any moment you would be waking up from a bad dream. I am one of those people who believe that the country lost its way at that moment.
Syracuse Police Detective Rick Morris:
My God, 50 years. I recall JFK's death vividly. I was 8-years-old and in the third grade at Onondaga Hill Elementary school. The presidency of JFK was bigger than life and most everyone I knew loved him. Physical fitness was the norm as JFK had created the President's Council on Physical Fitness and we all wanted to be "fit and vigor."

On the 22nd of November '63 I was in school when another student named Kenny Elmer who had excused himself from class to use the bathroom came running back with a transistor radio glued to his ear. We were not to have transistor radios in school and of course the teacher, Mrs. Pilot, began to scold him and take the radio when he began to scream that President Kennedy had been shot in Dallas.

The teacher took his radio and told everyone to keep quite while she sat at her desk and listened to the radio broadcast. Shortly afterwards, she left the classroom and went to the principal's office returning shortly, crying. A few minutes later we received a loudspeaker message from the principal on the school's broadcast system that President Kennedy had been shot and died. I remember it was shortly after 1:00PM.

The principal then sent all the students home. I spent the weekend watching the black and white TV broadcasts of the assassination and unfolding events. On Sunday, the 24th of November '63 I was watching the transfer of Lee Harvey Oswald with my father from the Dallas city jail to the county jail on TV when Jack Rubenstein, or Ruby as we know him, shot and killed the accused assassin on live TV. The events of the past two days left everyone in my family speechless. On Monday, President Johnson declared the day of national mourning. I spent it watching JFK's funeral on TV. The final tear- filled minutes of that day were of watching John-John saluting his father's casket and of Jackie Kennedy lighting the eternal flame on her husband's grave.

Oh, how well I remember the death of JFK and that it still give me a pit deep in my stomach. RIP Mr. President.
Michele Mullett:

I was 9-years-old, a fourth grader at St. Alphonse Catholic school in Auburn. I will always remember the principal's voice on the public address system two times that day. We were told that our president had been shot and was seriously injured. We were then instructed to go outside as a group to pray. When we returned to our classroom, the principal announced that President Kennedy had died.

Michelle Musengo, Solvay:
I had just graduated from high school in June 1963 and most of my classmates had gone on to college.

I did not. I went to work. Feeling left behind, my parents encouraged me to get out and get involved in a social activity where I could make new friends. I heard about the Onondaga Ski Club and decided to attend a meeting and join.

It was Tuesday, November 19, 1963, my first meeting. It was there that I met a gentleman who was about to change my life. He called me two days later and asked if I would like to go to lunch the next day. On Friday, November 22, 1963, my lunch date picked me up from the Diocesan CYO office, where I worked, and we went to the Hotel Syracuse Rainbow Lounge. Back in 1963, Friday afternoons in the Rainbow Lounge were a-bustle with business men and shoppers, lunching, drinking, sharing stories, laughing. We got a table and ordered lunch. As we were eating, a newsboy (yes they still had them then in downtown Syracuse) ran in shouting, "The President's been shot, the President's been shot!"

In a split second the room went from a din of joyous noise, to total and complete silence . . . you could literally have heard a pin drop! Everyone sat stunned and speechless.
I returned to my office, which is connected to the Cathedral, and after discussion with my boss, Father Frank Sammons, I was told to go home as we was closing the office. As I left my office, people were streaming into the church, openly weeping and praying.

My future husband (Ed) and I spent the entire weekend glued to the TV, witnessing and sharing the sorrow of America. Regarding the assassination of Lee Harvey Oswald, I believe it was the first time television ever broadcast a live shooting death of another person. Witnessing and sharing such historical devastation with another person cements a bond between you like no other. We only knew one another for a couple of days, but the Kennedy assassination was an event on which we built a lifetime together.

We dated every day from that day forward until we married in June.

Side note: It was Saturday morning, June 20, 1963, our wedding day. Yes, on our way to the church we heard on the car radio that Ted Kennedy's plane had crashed the evening before. It was a little bit of deja-vu all over again! Of course I will always remember our wedding day, but I also will never forget our "first date".

Dr. Dennis J. Nave:
I read your article of October 20, 2013. Emily Cecconi, the ticket taker at the Loew's, was my great-aunt (my grandmother's sister). I remember on November 22, 1963, being in Miss Hargadan's 3rd grade class at Franklin Elementary School on the north side. The class was making turkey cut-out decorations from construction paper when the janitor knocked on the door and told our teacher in his Italian accent that the President was shot. We were instructed to put the construction paper and scissors away, then bow our heads and pray that the President would live. Out of 35 baby-boomer students in the class, 32 were Italian-American Catholics, our teacher was Irish-Catholic, so we all prayed in our public school for the first Catholic President. Only when we got home did we learn that Walter Cronkite announced the President died.

As children, we did not know the historic implication of the assassination, only that Lincoln had also died this way. We learned the 100th Anniversary of the Gettysburg Address was 11 days earlier.

My brother and I always remember Aunt Emily not only for her Post-Standard interview, but also for always letting us in the Loews Theater for free to see a movie, saving the $0.50 children's price.

Marty Nave, Syracuse:

Emily Cecconi was my great-aunt who worked at Loews State Theatre that Friday the 22nd. I vividly remember the day and the days following Friday November 22,1963 - 50 years ago to this now-60-year- old. I was a 5th grade student at Franklin School on the city's North Side. That day our teacher, Mrs. Helen Reed was out and we had a substitute teacher. I remember late in the afternoon the teacher walking in and out of the classroom for a while. She then came back in the room and the bell rang and we were dismissed. Nothing was said to the class.

A neighborhood friend, Sandy Becker, who I knew as a prankster ran up to me and said, 'Marty, did you hear the news? President Kennedy is dead.' I told him to stop kidding; he told me he wasn't 'He's dead. He was shot.' My first thought as a 10-year-old was that he was shot in the head in his office. I still couldn't believe what he just told me as I walked up South Alvord Street to John, Park and to my home, an upstairs apartment at 713 E. Division St. I remember how quiet the streets were as I walked upstairs. I knocked on the door. My mother Louise opened the door. I looked at her and said, 'Ma, did Kennedy die?' She looked at me with tears in her eyes from crying. She could only nod her head, yes. When we returned to school on Tuesday the 26th, two days before Thanksgiving day, my teacher Mrs. Reed returned. She went right to the blackboard and wrote out a word. She asked the class what it meant.

The word was ASSASSINATION. We now knew what it meant.

Barbara Nevid:
I vividly remember exactly where I was when President Kennedy was shot, as if it had just happened. I was teaching Spanish to a junior high class of students in Jamesville-DeWitt School District, back before the present middle school was built. I was in the midst of my lesson, when the announcement of the President's death came over the PA system. Suddenly I had a class of 12-13 year olds crying and only me to calm them down, while dealing with my own raw emotions. Years later I would have a similar experience when the towers were hit in NYC. I then was teaching an early morning class at Syracuse University and had headed to campus after the first tower was hit. At least that time I had some knowledge of the situationg beforehand.
Arlene Nichols:

I was a junior in high school. Students and faculty were called down to the gym and told about the death of Kennedy. There was not a sound made when we walked back to our classrooms.

Tim Norton:
I remember exactly where I was although I was only 4 1/2 years old at the time.

My father and I had gone to Sears in Fairmount Fair and were in the hardware section.
He was speaking with the red-haired woman salesperson that we knew from coming there so often. I don't recall who actually announced that the president had been shot, but I remember seeing grief- stricken people sobbing openly in the store.

My mother was a huge fan of the Kennedys and my father knew that we needed to get home.

We left the store without even making a purchase and I recall everyone I saw while leaving the mall were either crying or just had this look of shock. We quickly drove home to find my mother leaning on the kitchen counter, her head buried in her arms and she was crying uncontrollably.

This is still one of the most vivid childhood memories I have as this was also the first time I had ever experienced tragedy.

Doren Norfleet:
Sean:

This memory is in response to your article in the Sunday, October 20th paper.

I was a junior at Cornell University, majoring in government. It was a beautiful fall day and I was sitting at the desk in my dorm room, overlooking the Fall Creek gorge, trying to study and listening to the radio when the announcement came on that President Kennedy had been shot. I listened for a few more minutes until the word came on that he had died. I then went downstairs to the lounge area, which was the only place there was a television. Several people had gathered to watch the coverage. It was eerily quiet with little or no conversation among those present. I returned to my dorm room and waited for my then boyfriend (now husband) to call (way before the days of cell phones and instant communication.)

Cornell canceled classes for Monday so my boyfriend and I went home to my home for the weekend. It was the first time that he had met my parents. It turned out to be a very unusual turn of events but one that remains forever etched in my mind.

Olivia Opello:
In November 1963, I was in my junior year at Ohio State University, going to school full-time and working in the late afternoon at Industrial Nucleonics, a business located a few miles from campus.

On November 22, there were fewer than a dozen people, most of them women, on the city bus that I took to work. Usually, there were many more people. The atmosphere was hushed. Some of the women were crying. I looked across the aisle at the woman sitting there. She told me that the president had been shot. A couple of stops later, someone got on the bus and said the president was dead.

When I walked in the main office at work, an area that had 3-4 desks, only one person was at their desk. The office manager approached me, and I asked her if it was true that the president had been shot. She said it was and that they were not talking about it in the office area. A couple of staff members had become overwhelmed emotionally and had gone home. Others were in the staff room.

When I finished working at 5 p.m., the office manager offered to take me to the rooming house where I was living. I accepted her offer.

That evening all the people in the rooming house sat around in one of the girl's bedroom and talked about the events of the day. There were no tears, but the mood was sober. But, also, there was comfort and security in knowing that a new president, Lyndon Johnson, had been sworn in.

The next day, we were sad but life went on.

Dillwyn Otis:
I am retired, age 71 and living in southern Cayuga County. At the time of President Kennedy's death I was a Peace Corps volunteer in Western Nigeria. I first learned of the assassination of our resident as I lay in bed listening to a battery operated radio and the gravelly voice of Sen Evereet Dirksen said, "and my condolences go out to Jacky and the family." This short wave broadcast continued and I learned more of the distressing details.

Lee Harvey Oswald is shot to death by Jack Ruby in Dallas.The Associated Press

I attended a memorial service some days later in Ibadan, Nigeria. A large crowd of Nigerians turned out for this service as the president was a very popular figure in Nigeria. I have framed in our home a letter from John F.Kennedy commending me for my first year of service in the Peace Corps and including his hope that I continued to," bring credit to myself and the Peace Corp."

Sadly he did not live to know that I did continue to complete my term of service.

Audrey Owlett:
On that day I was working in a doctor's office in a small town in Pennsylvania, which was in (the doctor's home) when his wife (who was watching TV) came over and passed the word that the president had been shot. Needless to say, the rest of the week was spending watching a black and white TV. At the time, I was to go on vacation to Fort Worth. Our plans changed and we ended up going to Washington DC to visit the grave site, then onto Dallas and to Forth Worth. A very sad trip at times. To this day, I still can't believe it happened.

I'm 80 years old and have nothing to do with computers or anything that you have to push buttons or slide across. Some call me a dinosaur! I hope you can read my 'hen scratching.'

Donna Palmer:

I was 12 years old at the time and was in a study hall at Minoa School in the cafeteria. We noticed none of the teachers were around so the noise level was increasing as it was a Friday afternoon and everyone was anxious for the weekend to start. Our science teacher, Mr. Alibrandi, came into the cafeteria, visibly upset and said, "You need to quiet down and you might want to pray, the president has been shot," and left the room. We were stunned to say the least and could not understand how the president could get shot. We talked together and someone said maybe it was a hunting accident as it was hunting season. We had no idea what an "assassination" was at our age.

That afternoon, the Catholics walked to St. Mary's church for religious education class which we did every Friday during the school term. The nun who led our class had us say prayers for the president. A half-hour into the class a boy came to the door and told the nun that our priest had announced that President Kennedy had died from his injuries. We cried that afternoon, wondering how anyone could do something so terribly evil.

When I got home from school the TV was on, my mom was crying and we stayed glued to the TV for 3 days until they buried our young president.
Kristen Murphy Panzetta:
My name is Kristen Murphy Panzetta. I was born on August 6, 1963. Although I am too young to personally remember the Kennedy assasination, I have always shared a connection with that event. I think people immediately think of the Kennedy assassination when they hear the year 1963. I celebrated my 50th birthday this year and it made me reflect and now I think Americans will reflect as we remember the event and this man on this 50th anniversary.

My parents have always had a family picture in their home that was taken on November 22, 1963 at Al Edison's photography studio in Syracuse. I am three months old and sitting on my mother's lap. My older sisters Joan and Lauren are the gigglers in the picture. My parents were 28 and 29 years old.

I have told this story many times to my five children and I hope in some way this will pass along to a new generation the story of a president that they did not know.

This picture could have been taken one day earlier if the appointment was scheduled at a different time, but it wasn't and because of the timing of this photograph we were frozen in time on this date. As I look at this photograph I see the perfect and "typical" American family and yet after this event, things changed. Things also changed after 9/11. These kind of events mold and change America and Americans.
Audrey Peach, Baldwinsville:

I remember that date like yesterday.

Three of our children were in school. We had an old black and white TV set and I still had a 3-year-old at home.

I was only 31 but I loved JFK. And I kept telling everyone what a wonderful president he would be.

It was cold but all of us on the street were outside crying, because we couldn't believe it was happening in our great country.

My husband is a veteran of World War II and Korea so we are a very God and COUNTRY-loving family.

Our TV was glued to the whole thing, and then the funeral.

Then when his brother was shot, it was like the Kennedy family was jinxed.

John F. Kennedy was a man with heart and love of God and country.

Fred Perez Jr., North Syracuse:
My name is Frederick J. Perez Jr. and I will never forget the day
President Kennedy was shot. I was 19-years-old and in the U.S. Air Force. I was
stationed at Ellsworth Air Force base just north of Rapid City, South Dakota. On
November 22nd, 1963, I was at an underground Titan Missile complex north of the base around lunch time. I was having something to eat when we heard on the
PA system that the president was shot. You could hear a pin drop. Everyone
gathered around the television to find out what happened. About an hour or so later, there was another announcement on the PA. Attention, all personnel are on red alert. At this point, I was scared. I realized that there was a possibility that
our missiles could be launched. I said a prayer hoping we didn't get to this point.

After a while, I was able to call my girlfriend in Rapid City to tell her I was on
'red alert' and didn't know when I would see her again. Thank God eventually
the alert was lifted and we returned to normal. This was probably the scariest
day of my life.

By the way, my girlfriend and I wound up getting married the following year. On
the 29th of December, 2013 we will be celebrating our 49th anniversity. We have two married sons and two grandsons. My lovely wife's name is Phyllis. I also retired from Niagara Mohawk in November of 1999 after 34 years of employment.

I will never forget that day knowing what could have happened.
Anthony Pittarelli:
This is in response to your request for 'where were you on the day' that President Kennedy died.

I was attending a tax conference in the Hotel Syracuse. The speaker was the commissioner of the Internal Revenue Service. Someone approaching the lectern and handed him a message. He looked at it and said, with a grim face and a stunned voice, 'The president has been shot.' He immediately left the lectern and we all left the conference room and did not return. Many of us hurried down to the Rainbow Lounge on the first floor of the hotel to watch the news on the television above the bar.

Soon thereafter, Walter Cronkite removed his glasses, paused, glanced up at a clock on the TV studio wall and announced that the president had died.
Dr. Joel Potash:
I was stationed at Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio Texas the year John F. Kennedy was murdered. I had been drafted as a physician/captain in the U.S. Army Medical Corp after completing a year of general medicine training at St. Joseph's Hospital. I had a 1-year-old daughter, and a second daughter was later born in San Antonio. It was terrifc: no boots, gloves, leggings to put on the kids when they went outside in the winter. Because there was a shortage of on-base housing, I lived in a complex of two-story apartment buildings not far from Brooke Army Hospital, where I served in the outpatient department. It was a time, similar to now, where there was great hostility between political conservatives and liberals, especially in Texas. I was blown away to see how many people drove around in their pickups with exposed rifles on a rack inside cab rear windows.

Kennedy made a stop in San Antonio the day before he went to Dallas. On the morning of Kennedy's arrival, I found my downstairs neighbor cleaning his rifle on the front stoop. "Going hunting?" I asked. "Nope, I'm going to kill that SOB when he comes." Obviously he didn't, but someone else did. The next day, when Kennedy was shot and killed, they shut down the outpatient clinic, in respect to the loss of our president and commander-in-chief. They didn't, however, shut down the base golf course, and it turned out to be a free golf day for the many officers stationed at Ft. Sam Houston.

Norm Pyzynski:
I was in first grade at Sacred Heart School on Park Ave, The announcement came over the PA and Sister Andrew told us to put our heads down on our desks, She left the room for a bit. Being six years old we didn't quite grasp the magnitude of what was going on. We were scared, but we trusted the teachers would do what was right. Sister came back in and told us what had happened. We couldn't believe that that could happen. Being in a Catholic School, we said a decade of the rosary then we got sent home, SInce my sister and brother went there as well, I didn't feel so scared. We came home and saw everything on television. When it finally sank in, I was very sad.

Sonia Ranger:
I was 9-years-old, in fourth grade. My dad was in the Navy and stationed in Delaware. We lived in base housing in Lewis, Delaware. I remember we had a record of a comedy act about life with the president and his wife that we listened to fairly regularly. It made us feel like we knew them; they were just a normal family like us, yet also a type of royalty, as it were.

I was home from school that day due to illness. My mom was cleaning the house, preparing for a ladies meeting. She received a call from one of the other wives asking her if she had heard the news: The president had been shot. Since there had been what she termed "a bad joke" circulating, her initial response was, "I'm sick of hearing that joke; it is not funny." The other woman then told her to turn on the radio. She did and we heard that this horrible joke had indeed become reality. Our television was broken, but I remember my dad got it fixed right away so we could watch the news reports surrounding this horrible event.

I remember watching the funeral procession, seeing John-John saluting as his father's casket rolled by. So many images are etched in my memory. Some are from that time, some are from seeing and hearing different accounts over the years. Although I did not understand it at the time, I did come to realize that America lost its innocence, a sense of security was gone forever. Different events in subsequent years added to that loss. I think that is why we remember; why people continue to look for answers and talk about conspiracies, magic bullets, etc. In one small space in time the light in our prince/princess story was extinguished.

Fred Rapple:

I am a retired teacher from West Genesee High School that taught there for 32 years. I was teaching an advanced college entrance course in Engineering Drawing when the tragedy was announced over the intercom system throughout the school. The students and I sat in disbelief as we listened to the course of events broadcasted over the speaker on the wall.

When classes were over, there was not the usual chaos as students were dismissed for their buses; just a somber quiet as they met up with their friends to head home to watch television for the follow up events.

The sad death of the president had extra meaning to me because when Senator John Kennedy was campaigning for presidency I happened to be in the Cape Cod area for a friend's wedding that I was in. While in the area, I attended a weekend Mass in the small Catholic Church in Hyanis that was near the Kennedy compound. A commotion in the back of the church made me turn around to see John and a pregnant Jacqueline Kennedy come down the aisle and sit next to me. I will never forget the smile on their faces as they acknowledged a 'hello' gesture.

Al Reber:

I was a second-year student at Rider College in Trenton, N.J., now in Lawrenceville, N.Y. I was in an English lit class; the professor, who went to Harvard with the president, abruptly left the room and returned in tears. He made the announcement and we all left the classroom. Not a word was spoken. We watched Jack Ruby shoot Lee Harvey Oswald that Sunday from our dorm, none of it ever to be forgotten.

Beatrice M. Reese:
I read your article in The Post-Standard, 'Where were you on that day, Nov. 22, 1963?' I was in the sixth grade at Seymour School on Seymour Street on the city's west side.
I had just asked my sixth grade teacher, Mrs. Eggleston, if I could use the bathroom. The time was 12:25 p.m. in the afternoon. The school bell had not rung yet. When I came out, the the hallways were quiet. I peeked into our classroom; kids were crying. I then peeked into another classroom: The same thing!!!

When I got to my classroom, Mrs. Eggleston called me over and said the president has been shot. I burst into tears along with the rest of my classmates.

Then a few minutes later, the loudspeaker came on and the principal, Mrs. Viola Hall, announced, 'President John Kennedy is dead!!' School was let out, class by class. I called my mother to let know school was letting out because the president had died.
That was the saddest weekend of my life. It was also Thanksgiving weekend. My parents and I were glued to the black and white TV at that time. It was not a happy Thanksgiving.

Since that time, I remember where I was when I heard Dr. Martin Luth3r King Jr. was killed in April 1968 and Robert F. Kennedy was killed in June 1968 and the Vietnam war and Watergate and on and on. I am now a senior citizen, retired from the New York Telephone Company, NYNEX, Bell Atlantic and Verizon.
Regina Reynolds, Oneida:
It is a pleasure to share my memories with you and your readers of the day that John F. Kennedy was murdered. An unforgettable memory, although there are many who'd just as soon forget all about it, who feel it is the past and buried with the past. If we cannot think about the past, then we shouldn't think or care about the future.

I am from Syracuse, but happened to have been in Erie, Pa. with my husband and 1-year-old daughter. My husband, a police reporter, was getting ready to go to work and I, 32 at the time, was feeding my little girl. We watched the television coverage throughout the rest of the weekend, which included the murder of Lee Harvey Oswald, by Ruby.

Also, being a librarian, I clipped articles from newspapers and magazines which I have clipped and saved. I also have bought, not borrowed, most of the books written about the investigation and developments pertaining to that horrible day. I have never believed the "official" version and now in my 80s look forward to the investigation continuing until the truth comes out and there is accountability. I hope to live for that reality.

I have all of Jesse Ventura's books, plus Oliver Stone's movies and the videos that were made. This month's Channel Guide is full of coverage.

Display outside the DeWitt Community Library by Kelly Zajac Sickler, November 2013, ShoppingTown Mall; includes the front pages of the Syracuse daily newspapers after the assassination.Sean Kirst | skirst@syracuse.com

Retired Lt. Col. Stanley H. Roe, Hamilton:
You asked for memories of where we were when President Kennedy was killed. I was in Vietnam, had been an advisor to a Vietnamese infantry battalion and was now regimental staff advisor. The regiment had three base camps at airstrips in the Ashau valley west of Hue. My memory appears below.

Aa handful of American army advisors with a Vietnamese infantry unit at Ashau, a remote airstrip near the Laotioan border. Our radio operator woke us with the news that the President has just been shot.

We had remarked that the Viets had shown no reaction when their own President Diem had been killed in a coup the month before, so we were startled by their reaction to our loss. Over the next few days almost every Viet soldier approached us, consoling us,

That ordinary soldiers in a foreign army so respected our president and the values he represented was a revelation and an inspiration.

When our leaders act and react in thoughtful, restrained ways, I am still inspired. It's been fifty years and I believe we are again earning the respect of ordinary people across the world."

In happier news, Kennedy had ordered the number of advisers reduced and my replacement was in, so I came home two weeks early. A happy time: Met my wife at Newark airport late on 21 December. Next day at home, met my new daughter, celebrated my son's birthday, then Christmas.

Roy Rounseville:
The Groton High School class of 1963 endured two "Significant Emotional Events" in 1963.

On June 8th. we lost our star athlete and class president, George Court, to hempatitus.
On November 22nd. we lost our President. I use the term "Significant Emotional Event"
because we are able to "SEE" in our minds where we were and what we were doing on
both of those days.

In November I was a freshman at East Tennesee State University. I remember walking down a hallway in a classroom building when I saw one of those rolling metal stands with a TV broadcasting the terrible events in Dallas. Living in Tennessee at that time was much different than Groton at that time and I am sure I was influenced by being in the South that day.

I shall never forget either day.

Donna Massara Ruth, Liverpool:

On November 22, 1963, I was a telephone operator at New York Telephone Company ("Ma Bell") at State & Fayette Streets and we were at lunch in the company cafeteria when our supervisor arrived and told everyone to return to their stations - there was a national emergency.

We weren't told what the emergency was, only that we were to put through priority calls. These were defined by the caller saying that this was a priority call. In 1963, if you wanted to make a long distance call, you had to go through an operator. I didn't know what happened until I left the office and got home. At the time, I lived with my parents and siblings on the east side of Syracuse. Since I had the next few days off, we were glued to the television for any coverage we could find. It was grainy black and white, but everything was so tragic and sorrowful. I did get to watch the funeral and all the drama of that day.

I also was watching when Lee Harvey Oswald was shot by Jack Ruby on live TV. That was quite a shock.

I was too young to vote for Kennedy, but I was in a "Teens for Kennedy" group, headquartered downtown. We handed out literature about him and I still have my lapel pin from that group.

In early 1964, I was visiting my aunt and uncle in Manassas, VA., and we went to Arlington; the Kennedy gravesite only had a picket fence around it and one soldier in attendance. I look back at these pictures now and compare them to what that place in Arlington looks like at this time in history.

Denise Sabatini, Bonita Springs, Fla.:
I am currently living in Florida and was recently sent a link to your memories page of the JFK assassination.

My best friend, Rita Fratto, was an author of one of the posted letters. Yes, I am "Denise" to whom she refers. As a lover of history, I felt that I wanted my story archived in the Onondaga Historical Society's files.

President John F. Kennedy and his wife Jacqueline: Texas, 1963.The Associated Press

My story of that day pretty much mirrors what everyone has written. I was at Grant Junior High School in Mr. Marko's 8th grade math class (second row, second seat) when someone pulled him out of the room. When he returned, I had never seen a look like that on anyone's face, let alone a teacher. As he told us that the President was shot and killed, he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his eyes. We were sent back to our homeroom and then dismissed.

The short paragraph above, while seemingly like everyone else's story, has a bit of a twist. As life has a way of providing twists, turns, and irony, so does this memory. Years later, I had read in the paper where Mr. Marko had passed away. Turns out, his wife and my mother were friends when they were in school. Both women were now widowed and had found their way back to their friendship. While walking around the NYS Fair one day, I ran into my mother and Mrs. Marko. My mother introduced me to Mrs. Marko. I was quite surprised when I realized that my mother and she were friends. I thought Mrs. Marko would appreciate hearing that I was in her husband's class when the news broke. After I told her the story, she gratefully thanked me for telling her the story. She said that she never knew that about her husband, and that filled in a piece of his life for her.

Her gratitude is now just as much a part of my memory as the day President Kennedy was killed.

Thank you for letting me share my memory.

Barbara Sanderson, Sherill:
On November 22, 1963, my husband and I, who lived in Irving, Texas, at the time, started out for Dallas to do Christmas shopping for our five children. On the way, we noticed all overpasses were manned with armed policemen, and remembered that this was the day President John F. Kennedy was to arrive in town. We completed our shopping at Titche-Goettinger, which was a popular department store at that time, and started down the escalator to catch a glimpse of the president.

On the way, we met a neighbor who told us, "You just missed him. He just went by" so we retraced our steps and went to the lunch room to have lunch. Just after we ordered, the room went completely silent and my husband said, "Something has happened," and rushed into the next department, where TVs were sold. Almost immediately, there was an announcement that the president had been shot. We went back to the lunch room and canceled our order, and headed back to the parking garage.

When we got to the street, people were crying and there was a special Dallas edition being sold with bold black headlines reading "President Shot." The trip home, which usually took about 45 minutes, that day was almost 3 hours, as our usual route went right by the Texas School Book Depository, from where Lee Harvey Oswald shot. This was a day which will live in my memory forever.

Dave Schrader, Baldwinsville:
I would like to share my memories of the Kennedy assassination but I have to start in October 1962. I was twelve years old then and living in Moon Township Pennsylvania, right next to the Greater Pittsburgh Airport. JFK had come to Pittsburgh on a tour and the motorcade was going right past our high school. Our junior high football team left practice to line the highway with our helmets tucked under our arms. As the president's car came by, JFK stuck his head out the window of the car with his big grin and waved to all of us. After the amazement of the moment passed we all argued for days over who the president was waving to!

A little over a year later I was walking out of the high school at the end of the day as word of the shooting spread through our school. A teacher had heard the news as she listened to a radio. No one could believe it, we were all stunned. By the time I reached home my mother told me the president had died.

The next day, Saturday, my father took me into his office at Gateway Center in Pittsburgh. We walked through the streets crowded with many other people and I will never forget how quiet it was. No car horns blew, people walking without speaking, hundreds of pictures of JFK draped in black were everywhere. It was surreal.

The next day I was in a religious education class watching a janitor's TV as Jack Ruby shot Oswald. It was an incredible three days of history that I had experienced.
I often think that weekend was the end of innocence for myself and countless young people.

Dewey and Imogene Schryver, Cicero:
On Nov. 23, 1963, at approximately 3 p.m., I was at work at Carrier Corp., Thompson Road. As I walked into the engineer drafting department, a fellow employee, Roy Tank, received a phone call from his wife (no radio, TV or internet in the office) that the president had been shot. My wife, who then worked as a secretary at the downtown office of First Trust and Deposit Bank, got the news from one of the bank officers.
It was shocking and unbelievable. We had been married only two years, living in an apartment in Mattydale.

Judy Schmid:
I was a second grader at St Mary's School in B'ville - for some reason, I had been selected the end of the prior year to be the narrator in a class play about Mother Goose - the narrator was Humpty Dumpty. The play went off without a hitch for the school's students - my voice, apparently, was loud and clear and I'd memorized my poems easily. In those days, we Catholic school kids rode the public school buses with the public high school kids - earlier than the public school elementary kids, so we were often the youngest ones on our buses, by far. Our transfer bus from St Mary's had dropped us all off at Durgee Junior High, where we scampered off to our neighborhood buses - it gave us a ten-minute advance on the junior high kids, and a 20-minute advance on the high schoolers. I was the only St Mary's kid on the bus in those days, and I felt 'special'. Mrs Goldsworth, known as Mrs G to us all, always seemed happy to hear of my escapades before the teens boarded her bus.

This day, I decided to surprise her. I slipped my costume over my head and boarded the bus as my character. Mrs G. was listening to her transistor radio, something she did while awaiting her passengers each day. I climbed the steps, started reciting my opening speech, and she ignored me. I stopped at the yellow line and waited for her response - she still ignored me. "Mrs G!" I said. "It's me!" She turned to me and said "I'm sorry, honey - but the president's been shot." I pulled off my costume and stood there, embarrassed that I was trying to be funny and cute and such a tragedy was unfolding. I silently walked to my seat behind hers and listened in. The junior high kids began boarding the bus in silence. The buses all pulled away on route to Baker High, where students there entered in silence. I remember someone saying "He's dead - the Communists will take over!" and many of the girls were crying.

I don't remember much after that - I think my face was red the rest of the day, embarrassed at playing the fool when the world as I knew it was changing forever. I had four siblings at the time - and my mom, who always waited at the kitchen table for the bus, was quiet - a cookie was left on the counter with a glass of milk for me, and I don't remember if I took them. Dinner conversation with dad didn't happen. Dad, always known to be a conservative voter, admitted to me years later that he had voted for Kennedy - he was hopeful for his own generation when he voted that way. The weekend was much the same - quiet, as we went about our lives, but the television seemed to be on the entire time.....
Elizabeth Seegar, Westvale:

On Nov. 22, 1963, I was a 14-year-old freshman at Sacred Heart (Catholic) Academy. It was a Friday afternoon and my friend Nancy and I had fooled the nun (again) and were wandering around the school instead of being in class. We were in the hallway leading to the gym when an upperclassman named Linda burst onto the scene. She was hysterical and screaming and crying, shouting over and over the President Kennedy was dead.

We were so shocked by her demeanor that we looked at each other and started laughing - that nervous laughter that is inappropriate to a serious situation. Linda told us we were "evil" and ran off.

Everyone, especially Catholics - and years before we ever learned about JFK's private life - thought the president and his family were almost saints. Nancy and I watched all the assassination coverage for days (on a black-and-white TV) and cried and cried with our families.

As the years have gone on, JFK"s personal foibles have dulled his sheen for me. But for many years JFK was the knight in shining armor, the consummate family man with a beautiful family, and the Camelot legend come true.

Margaret "Peg" Shields:

I have kept a diary for over 50 years. To preface my exact words may I add that we were living at 156 Plymouth Drive, Eastwood, Syracuse, at the time of this horrific event. The children I mention were George who would be 5 January 14, 1964, Douglas, age 2 1/2, and 1-year-old David.

The heading read: 'Our Personal Reaction To The Death of President Kennedy.'

"My neighbor, Rita Wiesnet, knocked on my door and asked if I heard the horrible news? She then said a person with a rifle shot the President from a nearby building. I turned on the TV and heard that he was dying. I fell to my knees, wept, and prayed, but it was too late. The next news was from two priests who confirmed his death.

George asked why I cried and i tried to explain. Later, after Douglas woke up from his nap I dressed all three and we went to church (United Methodist a few blocks away...two in the stroller and George walking beside me) to pray. The church was empty except for the organist who was practicing. The President has two children: Caroline, age 6, and John, age 3. Their birthdays are next week."

Patricia Shively, Syracuse:

In response to your request for recollections or reactions to the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, I submit the following:

"Ah, yes, I remember it well," to quote from the lyriucs of the song Maurice Chavelier sang in response to Hermione Gingold's rememrbances in the sweet film, "Gigi."
But this is not a sweet remembrance.

I was secretary to John Lynch, commercial sales manager at Eagen Real estate when JFK was sworn in as president in 1960. We were all allowed to "leave our posts" to listen and watch his stirring inaugural speech - the entire office staff. "Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country." Everyone remember those immortal words? The challenge of that speech carried the country to an elevated plateau where we all felt involved in our nation's future, like never before or since.

Imagine the devastating effects of the author of those words being blown away by gunfire in a Dallas parade!

I moved from Syracuse to Rochester in 1961 and married a widower with two daughters. One, a high school sophomore at the time, burst through the door on Nov. 22, 1963 with news of the current tragedy. The TV was not turned off for the next 72 hours. I kept lifting my apron to my face to wipe away the tears and hide the horror that was causing them.

I wanted so badly to show our children - one born and a second on the way - pride in a president who inspired - how I loved that word - a nation of people who rejoice in leadership they can admire and follow.

Little wonder that they continue to publish books and films of the "Kennedy Era." It was a glorious time. A heartbreak of spirit happened that day, unlike anything I have witnessed since ... well, until 9/11/

But that's another story.

John Sinnett:
Thank you for your excellent piece about how we remember the death of President Kennedy. I am one of those still around that remembers Pearl Harbor and other singular events but this was the most shocking to me as he was closer to me and my generation.

On that day, I was in Watertown making a sales call when I heard about it from my customer. We immediately forgot about business and I headed for home in Syracuse. I took '11 south' since 81 was not even a dream yet. What struck me as I drove along was the traffic was so light and those that were out had their headlights on even in the middle of the day. This was long before the requirement we have today. Not normal for that highway. They were driving slowly, as well, and the streets in each little town like Adams or Pulaski were nearly deserted. This continued all the way to Syracuse. The people had lost their leader.

Jane and John Sullivan, early 1960s.Family photo

Michael Shurgot:
Undeterred by dire warnings from parents--"You have no idea what kind of people will be there"; "Driving all night is way too dangerous"-- Paul, his brother Tom, Tom's friend and I left Buffalo for Washington, DC at 8 PM on Sunday, Nov. 24th, 1963. Sharing the driving, ham sandwiches and coffee, sleeping on and off, we barreled south and east for ten hours down mostly two-lane highways. As we approached DC Monday morning we became anxious, perhaps a bit scared. We knew that we were about to witness a momentous event, but were terribly unsure of its meaning for our lives.

Miraculously Paul found a parking spot and we started walking toward the Capitol Rotunda. As the Rotunda had been kept open all night, thousands of people still stood in line waiting to view President Kennedy's body lying in state. We reached the top step of the Rotunda just as the sun rose, granting light and warmth to the chilled throngs.

Tom checked his watch: 6:32 AM. An eerie silence hung in the air. Being young and devious, and having driven all night to reach this spot and knowing that Kennedy's body would be removed from the Rotunda later Monday morning, we snuck in line. Here, for the first time in my life, I shared space with black and Latino people who I believed had seen Kennedy as the American president who would champion civil rights and promote economic and social justice. Perhaps only then, as we shuffled past Kennedy's bier, did I realize that we were part of an America that was far more complex and heterogeneous than we had ever imagined. Several hours later we passed Kennedy's bier, and then solemnly exited the Capitol.

We walked to Pennsylvania Avenue where thousands more stood along the route that the cortege would follow carrying Kennedy's body from the Rotunda to burial in Arlington National Cemetery. Hours later, standing at a corner where the procession turned left, we watched silently as the caisson bearing Kennedy's body in the flag-draped casket slowly passed before us. It was pulled by six grey horses, followed by a rider-less black horse, Black Jack, tethered to the caisson, its boots and stirrups backward to signal the death of its rider. As the cortege turned the corner and headed toward the cemetery, I cried uncontrollably. The receding caisson bore away from us the marvelous hope and exhilaration that Kennedy's election had created in our generation.

Sleep was impossible, so we headed home. Tom recalls stopping at a restaurant somewhere in Virginia and the waitress giving us free cherry pie when we told her we had viewed Kennedy's body in the Rotunda and then witnessed the cortege pass before us. She asked us where we were from, and when we told her Buffalo she said "Well, you young fellas have had quite a drive this weekend." We had indeed; not just across several hundred miles but also into a history that we would never forget and would be forever changed.

Dede Snyder:

I was in gym class at NSHS and they were just getting ready to measure the length our skirts (and mine was too short). We listened to the announcement and were immediately dismissed. I was supposed to stay after school, but all that was canceled.

There was an eerie, shocked hush on the way home--as if our hearts were on bypass machines. Saw this verse today which I thought was pretty appropriate:

Listen to the breath,
the unbroken message that creates itself from the silence,
it rushes towards you now, from those youthfully dead.

- Rainer Maria Rilke, "Duino Elegies"

Bonnie Sponable:
I was 9-years-old when John F. Kennedy was shot. I was home sick from school, my mother and I were in her bedroom, her folding clothes and putting them away; I was sitting on the side of her bed watching her TV show when the news came through about Kennedy. She put her basket down, came around to the other side and sat next to me watching the news.

My dad was at work; he worked for Crouse-Hinds at the time. He told me he was on the phone with a client about traffic lights when the news came across. I have always followed the Kennedys through the years. I received a letter from Ted Kennedy when my one son was serving in Iraq.

Thank you for letting me share this part of history.
Mary Winslow Stephano:
I was a Peace Corps Volunteer in Ethiopia when President Kennedy was killed.

Atsede, my Ethiopian roommate, and I were sound asleep in the small house we shared in Addis Abeba when we were awakened by a loud pounding on the door. It was probably close to midnight. Jim Wilson, another PCV, had heard the radio announcement of the President's death and came over to let us know. Atsede began crying but I just remember shock. After Jim left we turned on Atsede's shortwave radio to Voice of America and listened through the night.

Next morning, having no phone or any other way of finding out what we should do, we left for the Ministry of Education where Atsede and I worked. There the entire day was spent with visitors stopping by to tell the other PCVs and myself how shocked and how sorry they were to hear of the young Presidents death.

In the evening Atsede and I went to the American Embassy and stood in a very long queue with people of different hues and many different languages waiting to sign the condolence book. There we heard tales of the many Ethiopians, Indians, and other expatriates -- it seemed everyone who knew a PCV or other American -- who had gone out of their way to let us know how bad they felt about our loss, which seemed to be their loss as well. I especially remember hearing of an Ethiopian out in the highlands who had ridden his horse fifty miles to offer condolences to a PCV friend.

The day of the funeral -- night in Africa -- we again listened to every word on Voice of America. Even now when I see the 50 year old pictures I kind of feel that, thanks to VOA, I had actually seen them at the time. The reality, of course, is that what I had truly seen was the impact of the President's death on people far beyond the shores of the United States.

Jane Sullivan, Camillus:
After we read your article in last Sunday's paper my husband suggested that I write to you.

Following our wedding in July, 1963 we lived in Washington, D.C. John was a senior at Georgetown Dental School and I was teaching 4th Grade at Congressional Elementary School in Rockville, Md. on that memorable Friday, November 22.

The principal stopped me in the hallway on my way to pick up the class at the music room and told me what had happened in Dallas. She cautioned me to tell the children before dismissal so they wouldn't hear it on the street as most of them were "walkers." Many had parents who worked for the government, NIH, Bethesda Naval Hospital, etc., so this news was especially personal, bringing tears and questions that this young teacher couldn't answer for them.

Driving back into the district on Wisconsin Avenue that afternoon the mood was somber, everyone listening to the news on car radios. The GU Dental Clinic closed as did most of the city and John was waiting for me in our little apartment watching TV, disbelieving what he was watching.

The hours and days that followed were full of images that are still so fresh. That first night we joined hundreds of others at the White House quietly mingling, watching for a light on the mansion's second floor, walking on the sidewalk that encircled the grounds. We heard sirens as we reached the west entrance and stopped to see the official limousine, tires screeching, turn into the driveway.

Lyndon Johnson, now the President, was clearly visible through the window.

In those pre-9/11 days, all that was possible.

On a cold, clear autumn day, we stood for hours with the silent crowds on Constitution Avenue, waiting for the sounds of the muffled drums, the sight of the flag draped coffin on the horse drawn caisson and the riderless horse with the backward facing boots in the stirrups symbolizing the fallen leader. By evening the long line up the stairs to the capitol rotunda took John and I past the catafalque where Kennedy's body lay in state. On the way home we stopped at St. Matthew's Cathedral where the funeral Mass was to take place. Workmen were busily setting up scaffolding for TV cameras, wires, cables everywhere. We made time for a quick prayer for the President, for the country.

The next morning John remembered a good vantage point in front of the Mayflower Hotel where we could watch the funeral procession as it left the White House on its way to St. Matthew's. There we stood and watched Kennedy's grieving widow and family as they walked behind the hearse and us grieving with them. Following behind were heads of state, foreign dignitaries and leaders from around the world walking together as a group in no particular order ... England's Prince Phillip, Haile Selassie of Ethiopia and towering above the others, French President, Charles DeGaulle.

These are some of our memories of those sad days and the events we witnessed as a young couple. We were caught up in the excitement of this new presidency and what its future might hold for us. That fateful Friday afternoon, amid the constant media coverage John had almost forgotten to tell me through our tears that he had picked up the test results at the hospital lab... it was positive, I was pregnant! Today, our beautiful daughter, Kerry, born in July 1964 is our (one) joyous memory of November 22, 1963.
Barbara Sutton:
Thanks for wanting to know where those of us who were around when President Kennedy was assassinated were and what we were doing on that day.
I was in my second year teaching 6th grade at Pleasant St. Elementary School (now a church) in Manlius. I was so young and just beginning to understand what teaching was all about.

On November 22, one of my students returned from the bathroom to report that other kids (in the bathroom) had told him that the president had been shot. How did this unnamed boy know? Of course, there were no computers then, not even a television in the classroom to try to investigate.

A short while later, an announcement came over the intercom and a radio was turned on in the main office so that we could all listen. My kids and I sat close together, wide-eyed and teary. They asked questions I couldn't answer. I remember the only one I could was who would become the president, if President Kennedy were indeed dead.

We sat together and talked. I tried to be as positive as I could, even though I didn't feel it. I told them that the US was a strong democracy. The new president, Lyndon Johnson, would be a good president. Our government would still function. We would all be safe.
The buses arrived; the kids prepared to go home. By now, many boys and girls were crying. We all hugged each other as we said goodbye.

It would be several days before we were together again.
Stuart Throop, North Syracuse:
On Friday 11/22/63 I was being drafted and inducted into the U.S. Army and private (E-1) at the Chimes Building, Local Board 59, Room 1200, 500 S. Salina St., Syracuse.
I was having my physical and someone came in and said, "The president was shot." I couldn't believe it.

I was assigned to the U.S. Army reception station at Fort Dix., N.J.
Later that day, I flew on my first airplane ride from Syracuse to Newark, N.J., on a propeller Mohawk airplane and then by bus to Fort Dix.

Everywhere I went, from Syracuse to Newark to Fort Dix, it was quiet. You could hear a pin drop. Outside was a ghost town.

I'll never forget that day! The next eight weeks, I had no newspaper, radio or TV while in basic training - just learning how to march for the JFK ceremony the next day at Ft. Dix.

Dolores Touranjoe, Liverpool:

On the day President Kennedy was shot in Dallas, we were moving into our new home. What should have been a happy occasion turned into a sad one. The years have gone by, we are still in the same home and the memory will always be with us!

Howard C. Tupper, Baldwinsville:

When President Kennedy was killed, I was an Army SP/4 at Ft. Sam Houston, Texas.
Ft. Sam is in San Antonio, where the President had come to dedicate an aerospace medical center the day before he went to Dallas, mending political fences along the way. There are a lot of military installations in San Antonio, and all the entourage were there that went to Dallas the following day.

Everyone was excited, and I got a 3-hour pass to be able to go see him in the parade on St. Mary Street from the airport to the dedication. Somewhere in my attic is a super 8 reel of the motorcade, with motorcycle cops brushing the crowd back, including me, from between parked cars as we craned our necks for a view.

I was thrilled to have him wave at us. Of course, I was in civvies.

The next day the news hit about noon at the message center at 4th Army HQ G-2 where I worked that he had been shot, but no one knew he was dead then. All leaves and passes were canceled immediately, the border with Mexico was closed, and DEFCON 3 was imposed. Rumors flew wildly. None of the officers would talk (no one did) mostly because they had no more information than the rest of us. The dayroomTV in our barracks was on constantly, with a young Dan Rather filling the screen.

I remember the message clerk, a civilian, bemoaning, "What would people think of Texas?" and the rest of the office being even more somber than normal; but everything was pretty serious on a regular basis with classified info being processed all day anyhow. Things stayed very tight for quite a while until the threat abated. We were eventually allowed to wear clothes other than uniforms, and leave the base after a few weeks.
Victoria Underwood, Fayetteville:

This date evokes a vivid memory for me because I was a first-semester student at Chamberlayne Junior College in Boston. I was living in an antiquated old building that had been made into a dorm. It was located at 262 Commonwealth Avenue, an address close to the public gardens.

It was afternoon on fall day and I was with roommates when we got the news that our beloved President Kennedy was shot. A group of us went to a nearby church. Because it was Kennedy's home state, people were roaming the streets yelling, "Assassins!"

My dorm was closing immediately; I had to borrow a check from a friend.
She and I walked to a nearby police department to get it cashed as the bus company wouldn't take a check.

The next day, I took a 13-hour ride home to Rochester. On my parents black and white television, we watched the news about the event - endlessly.

This is and always has been a date I'll always remember and it still remains a mystery in so many ways.

Larry Upton, Cross Lake:

I read your column on 10/20/2013 as I do each day we are at our Camp at Cross Lake (218 Fire Lane 13, Jordan, NY 13080), and thought that I would try to write a piece about my recollection of 11/22/1963. It has been etched in my mind since then, whereas, many of my other memories seem to have vanished.

On that date I was counseling students at Bennett High School in Buffalo where I was serving as a school counselor trainee. My status as a student followed two years of teaching high school social studies with one year at Elbridge Central School and the next year at the new Jordan-Elbridge Central School.

At the moment I received the word of President Kennedy's having been shot I was seated in my supervising counselor's office, discussing my recent progress. Then suddenly the office door burst open and in came the counselor from next door who was crying and with great emotion announced: "President Kennedy has been shot and critically wounded"! It seems that her mother had heard the news on the TV or radio and called to relay the information.

After my hearing this terrible news, a couple of minutes later our high school principal came on the public address system and shared that information with perhaps 1500 students along with teachers and staff. Immediately following the principal's words, 'Taps' were played which seemed most appropriate for us all. School was dismissed soon afterward - but I do not remember if it was the usual time or it was an early dismissal.

Students as they left seemed quiet and probably stunned by the terrible incident.

Marie Vertigan:

I was 13-years-old when my hero John F Kennedy was assassinated. I was walking back to school after eating lunch at home. I was directly in front of Huntington School in Eastwood walking down the main sidewalk into the school when some of my fellow classmates ran over to tell me school was letting out for the day. The president had been shot in Dallas! I walked home to find my mother in tears glued to the television set. I too could not stop watching, hoping to hear good news of how he was. When word was released by Walter Croncrite we both burst into tears. It really was my first brush with death and devastating feelings. It was so impacting to me that I still cry to this day when it pops into memory every year on November 22nd. He was such a nice cheerful man full of hope and accomplishment for America. It was the end of the world as we knew it that day!

Tom Vliet, Constantia:
In regards to JFK assassination:

I was in 1st grade when President Kennedy was assassinated. I was growing up in Wayne, N.J. at the time. This was a time when the Baby Boom was really "booming" and the school system in Wayne was a bit overcrowded. The first grade at Alps Road School which I attended was on a split-shift. Half of the 1st graders went to school early in the morning and got out around noon and the other half went to school in the afternoon.
I went to school in the morning so I was home in the afternoon that day. It was a nice autumn day and I was playing in a pile of sand in our backyard (the sand was for a landscaping project my Dad was working on). I had an old lamp shade my mom had just thrown out and was digging around in the sand with it when my mother came to the back window of our home and shouted out to me "Tommy - come in quickly - the President has been shot." I recall the seriousness of her voice and how she sounded a bit choked up.

When I got inside my mom told me her mother had called and told her to turn on the TV right away as the president had been shot in Dallas. The TV was on when I got in the house and mom and I sat quietly in disbelief as we watched events unfold on the TV. Walter Cronkite had come on and was providing the updates and then the tragic news was announced that the president was dead. I think that was the first time I recall seeing my mother cry. It still brings tears to my eyes (all these years later) when I think of this terrible tragedy that occurred back in November 1963.

It always seemed to me that that day in 1963 was a turning point in America. Our innocence was lost and there was so much tragedy and heartache in the years ahead for Americans with the Vietnam War, more murders and assassinations, riots and civil unrest, protests, violence, etc. By the end of the 1960s it seemed at times that the world was coming apart at the seams and the years of joy and innocence that characterized the early 1960's had turned into a time of ugliness and uncertainty - at least in the eyes of a young man from Wayne, N.J. who was coming of age in the 1960's.

Linda Weiss:

I was a fourth grade student in elementary school on Long Island. We had 2 strict, tough teachers with whom we switched classes. I vividly remember one teacher coming into our class and announcing to the class that the president was shot and we were being dismissed early. Clearly she was shaken. Like you said in your article, as young children we were taken back as we observed our strict, in-control teachers, with red eyes and shaking voices. For the next few days my world turned quiet. We stayed home, watched the news and the funeral with little John-John saluting his father. It was most definitely the "end of innocent times" for the baby boom generation.

Jane Walsh, Camillus:
I read your article in The Post-Standard, remembering the assassination of Pres. John F. Kennedy!

I am 97 years old and yes, I remember vividly where I was when I heard the dreadful news. My sister and I were in Edward's basement shopping for slip covers and everyone broke down freely, and tears flowed freely, people hugged each other trying to comfort all.

I have just recently moved from an upstairs apartment to downstairs and cannot find all the articles I saved of that day; if and when I do I will be glad to send them to you.

My family and I also witnessed on TV the shooting of Oswald by Ruby.
I am so glad someone is acknowledging this day. I also think there should be more of a celebration of President Kennedy's birthday!!!
Former U.S. Rep. James T. Walsh:

I was in class at Christian Brothers Academy and we heard it over the Public Address system, if my memory is correct. I'm pretty sure they sent everyone home soon thereafter. While I do remember the Cuban Missile crisis and the "air raid drills" where everyone would get under their desks, the Kennedy assassination was the first real 'world-shattering sort of event" in my memory. Everything was canceled and we all watched TV. We saw film of the Dallas Motorcade and clips of the police and Secret Service responding to the shooting. It was all very real and very chaotic. We saw Jack Ruby shoot Lee Harvey Oswald on television. I remember my father, who was at the time Mayor of Syracuse, saying that 'if those cops would take off those foolish cowboy hats they might have seen Ruby pull out his gun." It seemed like nothing was going to be the same again.

Cynthia A. Wells:

It was a regular school day and I was looking forward to celebrating my 14th birthday. It was my last class of the day: Earth Science. Suddenly and unexpected there was a PA announcement: The President had been shot in Dallas. In class, Miss Pantanella asked everyone to bow their heads and pray. No one knew the gravity of the situation. Then the dismissal bell ... DEAD silence in the halls of Baker High School. On the walk home we (my twin sister and I) stopped in the then-Town of Van Buren town building on Canton Street to see our mom ( she was deputy town clerk). Everyone there was crying ... the president was dead. Then, three days of being glued to the black and white TV, knowing history was changed forever.
John Wille, Henderson:
My "where were you" story is fairly ordinary, but a few related memories may give those who didn't experience it some idea of how we felt at that time.

i was in the fourth grade at a Catholic elementary school in Rochester. An eighth grade boy, Jim Georger, came to our classroom and told us that the president had been shot, but his condition was unknown. Our teacher, Sister Marie Walter, had us kneel down next to our desks and say prayers for President Kennedy.

About half an hour later, Jim came back with the awful news that the president had died. The rest of the day I was home watching the story unfold on TV like so many others. It just seemed so unbelievable. I kept hoping somebody had got it wrong, that this really didn't happen. Then at night, when Air Force One landed in Washington, my whole family was gathered in front of the TV and Lyndon Johnson stepped up to a podium to give a brief statement. That was the moment for me I'll never forget; it was proof positive for my 9-year-old self that this had really happened.

A couple of postscript memories: The following Monday, the day of the funeral, there was no school. We watched the long procession to Arlington Cemetery on TV. The only part I remember was when the horse drawn caisson turned and went into the cemetery toward the gravesite. The following summer, our family went on vacation to Washington. We saw a lot of sites, but I think the real reason for the trip was to visit President Kennedy's grave. I remember walking up that same path that I had seen on TV less than a year ago. The original grave was quite simple, with a white picket fence around it, and of course the eternal flame.

Six days after the assassination was Thanksgiving Day. I remember all of us sitting down to have our meal. My mother had just taken the turkey out of the oven, everyone was pretty quiet. Then she just started crying, and of course we all knew why.

All my life since that day I have demarcated November 22nd, 1963 kind of like B.C and A.D. If I read a story about something that happened in 1962, I'll think to myself, "That was before Kennedy died." It's just always been an automatic response.
Harrison V. Williams Jr.:
I will well remember that day. I was in the middle of a jury trial on the third floor of the Onondaga County Courthouse. I believe the justice presiding was Judge Donovan. While I was examining a witness, a court attendant entered the courtroom from a door behind the bench and handed the Judge a note. The judge put his hand in the air and directed me to stop. He then faced the jury of 12 men and women and announced that the president had been shot. It was a shocking experience. Some jurors wept and others stared in disbelief. The Judge adjourned the case to a future date and sent everyone home. I closed my office and went home to watch TV like millions of other Americans. It is a day I will never forget.

John Wilson:

Pictured here: President Kennedy on the far right, Major John Wilson on the far left.Courtesy John Wilson

My parents were Salvation Army officers, and in 1960 they were stationed in York, PA. They were in the process of raising funds to build a new youth enter and church in York, and one of their projects was to sell bricks for $1.00. The buyer would write their name on the brick and it would become one of the bricks used in the construction of the new building. Then Senator John F. Kennedy stopped by their tent at the York County Interstate Fair on September 16, 1960. He purchased a brick and his name is now on one of the bricks that is part of the Salvation Army building in York, PA.
Dick Woodworth:

On Nov. 22, 1963, I was ironically waiting for the beginning of History Class when history and our futures changed. This was a major (life)-changing event for all people - the passing of our young president with a New Frontier for all. My history teacher, Mr. Peacock, told me before class what had happened, because he knew I followed current events. He cried, students cried and the faculty cried. I went home and my mother was in the front yard with her neighbor, and they were crying. The beginning of the Four Dark Days that we will never forget. I remember just about every place closed and events canceled, except church.

John Young, at the grave of President John F. Kennedy, Arlington.Family photo

John Young:

In September 1963, I was at the Basic School, Quantico, VA, a 6-month program for Marine Corps 2nd Lieutenants.

On Friday morning, Nov. 22, we were in a class on public speaking and effective ways to get audience attention.

Class started at 8:30, finished at 11:45, and we went to lunch.

The afternoon session began at 12:45 PM and shortly thereafter, one of the instructors told us that President Kennedy had been shot in Dallas.

Given what we had learned in the morning session, some of us thought it was part of effective techniques to gain audience attention.

The instructor told us it was real, called us to attention, and ordered us to return to O'Bannon Hall, our residence.

We watched TV throughout the weekend, and many of us went to Arlington Cemetery on Monday, Nov. 25, for the President's burial.

We saw Haile Selassie, emperor of Ethiopia, Charles de Gaulle, president of France, the riderless horse with the boots backwards, the Kennedy family, Supreme Court justices and various U.S. senators and members of Congress. Although we couldn't see Cardinal Cushing, we listened to his remarks at the grave site.

Eighteen months later we were in Vietnam where Frank Reasoner, one of our classmates, was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor.

This past April, some 65 members of the "Marines of '64" gathered in Arlington and Quantico. Our leader, Joe Dalton and Brian O'Keefe, my classmate and best friend in Vietnam, spoke about our time in the Marine Corps - and JFK.

I took it upon myself to return to Arlington on this 50th anniversary of his death to remember him and all Marines.

Robert P. Young, Chattanooga, Tennessee:

I was in 2nd grade at Narrows Elementary School in Narrows, VA. Unlike many schools that day, our school did not make a loudspeaker announcement about the tragedy. I don't recall our teacher saying anything about it either. My first inkling that something was wrong was when I got off the school bus and walked into the house, my mom was on the couch watching TV. My mom NEVER watched TV in the middle of the day.

I recall playing outside for a while, then coming in at around dark. One of the TV stations usually aired cartoons late in the afternoon, and I remember being upset that cartoons didn't air that day. I guess I must have watched the coverage because, years later, upon seeing a rebroadcast of Air Force One landing in Washington, and the casket loaded into the Pontiac hearse, it was as if I had just seen it yesterday.

I also recall coming home from church on Sunday, and turning on the TV just in time to see Lee Harvey Oswald shot by Ruby. I counted 11 or 12 times I saw the video of the shooting replayed that afternoon.
Former Syracuse Mayor Tom Young:

On Nov. 22, 1963, I was in Sister Rose Campion's Latin class when word came over the speaker that President Kennedy had been shot and killed in Dallas. I remember staring at Sister Rose, a big, tough nun, as she gently walked to a corner of the room, turned her head and quietly wept.

My Father, "Bocko" Young-- a prominent local Democrat and lawyer-- and JFK were my inspirations into politics and public service. I could recite Kennedy speeches then with little urging, including his Inaugural Address, then and now a masterpiece clarion call to the world, urging both sides (U.S. and Russia) to ".begin anew the quest for peace" and instead focus on ".. the common enemies of man: tyranny, poverty, disease and war itself".

And in a flash, one of my heroes was gone. Over the weekend, our family tearfully watched the tragedy unfold in front of our TV in the basement of our home -- all but my brother, John, who was stationed at the Marine base in Quantico, Va., and attended the funeral in Washington.

The pain in my stomach worsened as one thought kept pounding in my mind: He's never coming back.

Kay Zaharis, Cortland:

On November 23, 1963 I was sitting in my 11th grade English class at St. Mary's school in Cortland, NY. When the announcement was made over the loudspeaker, the entire school was quiet. The nuns then instructed us to put on our coats and we walked over to church to pray.

Suzi Zappola:
While my memories of the president's assassination began at about 1:30 PM on November 22,1963 and continued for several months as I nightly cried myself to sleep, two parts of the "Four Days in November" stand out.

On the night of the assassination, a first-ever basketball game was scheduled between CBA and Bishop Ludden High School, the new Catholic high school in Syracuse. A flurry of phone calls traveled between my friends and myself for as sophomores at The Convent School; we enjoyed going to CBA's football and basketball games. "Is the game still on?" and "Should we go or is it disrespectful to go?" were questions my friends and I posed to one another after arriving home that afternoon. In the end, the game was played and we decided to attend for the most "teenage" of reasons, "President Kennedy supported physical fitness and so should we as a sign of respect to him," when in fact it was because we didn't want to miss the game!

As the game began, the principal of Bishop Ludden spoke some gentle words about the tragedy before asking us to join him in prayer. Being in the Ludden gym filled with fans who blessed themselves and then prayed together was very emotional for me. However, then the lights were lowered, a spotlight was shone on the American flag and we were invited to sing the Star Spangled Banner. A few minutes later, when the lights were turned on, through my tears, I saw 6'5", 6'6"and 6'7" inch basketball players sobbing. It was the first time I had seen any male sob and, as I looked around, hundreds of males were.

The next day, my family drove to Pennsylvania for my senior in high school sister's interview at Bucknell College. Hours and hours of sad, sad, classical music was played on the radio on that Saturday.

On Sunday, my mother was in the kitchen, making Sunday breakfast. I, in the basement watching our TV, shouted up the stairs at her, "Mom, they just shot Oswald!" By Sunday morning, he was so infamous that, like Hitler, he only required the use of his last name.

Monday morning, my mother, my sister, and I, dressed in our nightgowns and bathrobes, were watching the funeral on the basement television. After a while, my sister rose from her chair and walked upstairs. My mother and I looked at each other and wondered aloud how she could leave this very important event. Hearing her footsteps on the floor above us, we knew that she had gone to her bedroom and, a few minutes later, that she was returning. We turned toward the stairs and saw her feet, then her legs, clad in black stockings and black high heels, descend the stairs. Then, a dressy black dress, hands covered with black gloves and carrying the Missal of the Catholic Church came into view. But it was her head covering that most stunned us. She had a black mantilla, a triangular piece of lace, turned so that her face was covered as Mrs. Kennedy's face was that day. She returned to her chair, sitting on the edge of it so that her back and the chair back were not touching.

We asked her, with a look and a tone in our voice that indicated we thought she had lost her mind, "What on earth are you doing?" With her head held high (so that she could "look down her nose at us!"), she said, in the most condescending of voices, "I think it is a disgrace to attend the funeral of a man of his caliber dressed the way you two are dressed!" (Note the key word "attend.") I don't think I ever felt sloppier or more in need of a shower. She sat at the edge of her chair for the rest of our time watching the funeral indicating to us that her small act of discomfort was a sign of respect to the deceased president.

A few minutes ago, I finished watching a show on PBS about President Kennedy and again, after all of these years, shed a tear.

Joseph Zemotel, Hammondsport:
On Nov. 22, 1963, I was a first grade student at St. John the Baptist Ukrainian Catholic school. After our break, around noon, we returned back to class. Not long after that, one of our cafeteria staff ladies knocked on our classroom door. Our teacher, Mrs. Kerzan, went into the hallway to see what she wanted. When she came back to class, she was crying. She said President Kennedy had been shot in Dallas and it didn't look good. Not long after, school was dismissed and we were told to go right home. I only lived a block away, next to the Ukrainian bowling center. My mom was at my aunt's house that day, two blocks away. I went to meet her. Halfway, I met her. She was also crying. We went home, turned on the TV and watched the news. One of the worst days ever.
Carol Zellar, Fulton:

Nov. 22, 1963, is indeed a day I remember and will never forget. I was teaching 2nd grade at an elementary school near Utica. I was working with a small group of children when the school principal made the announcement over the loud speaker that the president had been shot. The rest of the afternoon is pretty much a blur. Everyone was upset and I really don't remember how we kept it all together. Word that the president had died came later in the afternoon. President Kennedy (as a senator) had been commencement speakers at SU when I graduated from there in June 1957. He was Sen. Kennedy then so I actually got to see him in person once.

Bonnie Ziegler:
I was a seventeen-year-old nursing student who had come from Watertown to my girlfriend's home on Oneida Lake for a visit. She and I had gone into Syracuse that morning of November 22nd with her stepfather. On the way, he had to make a stop at a friend's home and Susie and I remained in the car to wait. Suddenly, we heard her dad yelling our names as he came out of the front door waving his arms: "Turn on the car radio. The President has been shot."

We quickly turned it on and listened as the newscaster reported the details of the shooting in Dallas. We were stunned and could not believe that our happy little world was shattering. Her dad soon joined us and we made a silent way to a restaurant for lunch. Already, flags were at half-mast. The atmosphere in the restaurant was quiet and subdued. Then came the news that the president of the United States was dead. I, and many others around me, cried in disbelief. I was young and full of idealism and so admired the handsome young president and his beautiful wife and children. This was the awful beginning of a decade of turmoil that I could not even imagine could come to pass in my country.

That evening, and on the days that followed, we were glued to the television. When Walter Cronkite made his tearful announcement that the President was dead, the sadness and reality was almost too much to bear. We watched as the brave widow followed the casket down Pennsylvania Avenue and as little John saluted the flag as the coffin went by. It was the first awakening of my life to the harsh realities of adulthood, the realization that bad things happened and that even a President could not escape the evil in the world.

The memory of that day is as vivid now as it was then. Of course, many other sad events have occurred since that dark day. But November 22, 1963 was the darkest of all for a young girl who had yet to experience an event as life-changing as that moment, frozen forever in her memory.

Steve Ziegler:
HERE IS MY STORY ON THE DEATH OF JOHN KENNEDY.

I WAS IN 5TH GRADE AT GEORGE WASHINGTON ELEMENTARY SCHOOL IN SYRACUSE. I WAS 11 YEARS OLD.

ON FRIDAY NOVERMBER 22 MY TEACHER ASKED ME TO TAKE ALL THE THANKSGIVING DECORATIONS OFF THE BACK WALL BECAUSE IT WAS THE LAST DAY BEFORE OUR THANKSGIVING BREAK.

WE ALSO HAD A PICTURE OF PRESIDENT KENNEDY ON THE WALL WITH AMERICAN FLAGS ON EITHER SIDE OF THE PHOTO. I ASKED HER IF I SHOULD TAKE THE PHOTO DOWN ALSO, AND SHE SAID "WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO DO THAT?"

I TOLD HER SHE WAS RIGHT, SO I LEFT IT UP AS IT WAS.

ABOUT A HALF HOUR LATER, THE SCHOOL PUT ON THE RADIO BROADCAST THAT THE PRESIDENT WAS SHOT AND HAD DIED AT ABOUT 1:30 PM.

WE BOTH LOOKED AT EACH OTHER. WE COULDN'T BELIEVE THAT THAT JUST HAPPENED!

THAT IS SOMETHING I WILL NEVER FORGET.

Kathleen Zory:

I was a student in the seventh grade at Lyncourt School in Mr Centrone's music class when the principal came on the PA system and told us that President Kennedy had been shot and killed. The thing that will always be so vivid in my mind was the collective gasp that came from the class. Then silence for a brief moment before the tears starting coming. Classes were dismissed early and we walked home in stunned silence. That night we attended my aunt's birthday celebration but no one felt much like celebrating. We were glued to the TV and our generation, for the first time, experienced pretty much round the clock news coverage that is so prevalent today. The shooting of Oswald, the coverage of Kennedy's funeral all seemed unreal in the following days.
I recall the next week when we went back to school there was some discussion of whether or not to have the teen dance at school. The adults who made the decision to go ahead with it took some flack but in the end it was a good thing to have it. In those days, there were no grief counselors at schools to help students cope with such tragedies. The dance provided some sense of normalcy to us where we could just listen to music and talk about it all. As I look back on the 50th anniversary of his death it truly was the end of an era.

This concludes the archive of reader remembrance about the assassination of John F. Kennedy 50 years ago this week. You can return here to our main coverage of the remembrance. This archive will be handed over to the Onondaga Historical Association; if you'd like to add a signed entry, the easiest way to do is to add your recollection as a comment, below. You can also email Sean Kirst.